IIN  MEMORIAM 
Mary  J.    L.    Me  Donald 

POLLYANNA  GROWS  UP 


FICTION  BY 

ELEANOR  H.  PORTER 


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THE  PAGE  COMPANY 
53  Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 


"JIMMY  LOOKED  DOWN  AT  THE  WISTFUL,  EAGER  FACE." 

(See  page  184.) 


Second  Qlad  Book 

Trade-2 Mark 

POLL  YANNA 
GROWS  UP 

£</  ELEANOR  H.  PORTED 

•/ 

Author  of  "Pollyanna:  The  Glad  Book."   "Mm Billy." 

Trade Mark 

"Miss  Billy's  Decision,"   "Miss  Billy  —  Married," 
"  Cross  Currents,"  "  The  Turn  of  the  Tide."  etc. 


Illustrated  by 
H.   WESTON  TAYLOR 


{BOSTON       *>       THE  PAGE 
COMPANY    •*>     MDCCCCXV 


Copyright,  1914,  1915 
BY  ELEANOR  H.  PORTER 

Copyright,  1915 
BY  THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  March,  1915 


••:>•': V  ':s..:A-,^ 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Co. 
New  York 


K/h/O 


TO 

(Eauain  ]ietUrr 


980492 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  BELLA  SPEAKS  HER  MIND  . 

II.  SOME  OLD  FRIENDS       .... 

III.  A   DOSE   OF   POLLYANNA 

IV.  THE  GAME  AND  MRS.  CAREW    . 
V.  POLLYANNA  TAKES  A  WALK 

VI.  JERRY  TO  THE  RESCUE 

VII.  A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE 

VIII.  JAMIE        . 

IX.  PLANS  AND  PLOTTINGS  .... 

X.  IN  MURPHY'S  ALLEY     ... 

XI.  A  SURPRISE  FOR  MRS.  CAREW   . 

XII.  FROM  BEHIND  A  COUNTER  . 

XIII.  A  WAITING  AND  A  WINNING 

XIV.  JIMMY  AND  THE  GREEN-EYED  MONSTER 
XV.  AUNT  POLLY  TAKES  ALARM 

XVI.  WHEN  POLLYANNA  WAS  EXPECTED    . 

XVII.  WHEN  POLLYANNA  CAME     . 

XVIII.  A  MATTER  OF  ADJUSTMENT. 

XIX.  Two  LETTERS 

XX.  THE  PAYING  GUESTS     .       ... 

XXI.  SUMMER  DAYS 

XXII.  COMRADES 

vii 


PAGE 
I 

12 

27 
38 

47 
66 
76 

85 
96 

105 
117 
126 

J35 
148 

155 
161 
172 

183 
191 

201 
2IO 
219 


Vlll 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

XXIII. 

"  TIED  TO  Two  STICKS  "... 

.          229 

XXIV. 

JIMMY  WAKES  UP  

•          234 

XXV. 

THE  GAME  AND  POLLYANNA 

.          244 

XXVI. 

JOHN  PENDLETON    . 

2CJ. 

XXVII. 

THE  DAY  POLLYANNA  DID  NOT  PLAY 

•^D^t 
.       26l 

XXVIII. 

JIMMY  AND  JAMIE  

.        269 

XXIX. 

JIMMY  AND  JOHN    

.        277 

XXX. 

JOHN  PENDLETON  TURNS  THE  KEY  . 

.       284 

XXXI. 

AFTER  LONG  YEARS      .... 

2QI 

XXXII. 

A  NEW  ALADDIN 

303 

LIST     OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

"JIMMY  LOOKED  DOWN  AT  THE  WISTFUL,  EAGER 

FACE"  (See  page  184)    .         .  Frontispiece 

"  'OH,  MY!  WHAT  A  PERFECTLY  LOVELY  AUTOMO 
BILE!'  " 30 

"TWICE  AGAIN,  AFTER  SHORT  INTERVALS,  SHE  TROD 

THE  FASCINATING  WAY"  .  .  .  67 

"IT  WAS  A  WONDERFUL  HOUR"      ....         84 

"  'I  DON'T  KNOW  HER  NAME  YET,  BUT   I  KNOW  her, 

so  IT'S  ALL  RIGHT'  '.....  132 
"  "THE  INSTRUMENT  THAT  YOU  PLAY  ON,  POLLYANNA, 

WILL  BE  THE  GREAT  HEART  OF  THE  WORLD*  '  22$ 

"INVOLUNTARILY  SHE  TURNED  AS  IF  TO  FLEE"  .  284 

"  'I'M  GLAD,  GLAD,  CLAD  FOR — EVERYTHING  NOW!'  "  307 


POLLYANNA  GROWS  UP 


CHAPTER    I 

BELLA   SPEAKS    HER  'M!3H>  L8  ? 

BELLA  WETHERBY  tripped  up  the  somewhat  im 
posing  steps  of  her  sister's  Commonwealth  Avenue 
home  and  pressed  an  energetic  finger  against  the 
electric-bell  button.  From  the  tip  of  her  wing- 
trimmed  hat  to  the  toe  of  her  low-heeled  shoe  she 
radiated  health,  capability,  and  alert  decision.  Even 
her  voice,  as  she  greeted  the  maid  that  opened  the 
door,  vibrated  with  the  joy  of  living. 

"Good  morning,  Mary.     Is  my  sister  in?'* 

"  Y-yes,  ma'am,  Mrs.  Carew  is  in,"  hesitated  the 
girl ;  "  but  —  she  gave  orders  she'd  see  no  one." 

"  Did  she?  Well,  I'm  no  one,"  smiled  Miss  Weth- 
erby,  "  so  she'll  see  me.  Don't  worry  —  I'll  take  the 
blame,"  she  nodded,  in  answer  to  the  frightened  re 
monstrance  in  the  girl's  eyes.  "  Where  is  she  —  in 
her  sitting-room  ?  " 

"  Y-yes,  ma'am ;  but  —  that  is,  she  said  —  "  Miss 

1 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


IWetherby,  however,  was  already  halfway  up  the  broad 
stairway;  and,  with  a  despairing  backward  glance, 
the  maid  turned  away. 

In  the  hall  above  Delia  Wetherby  unhesitatingly 
walked  toward  a  half -open  door,  and  knocked. 

"  Well,  Mary,"  answered  a  "  dear-me^what-now  " 
voice.  "Haven't  I  —  Oh,  Delia!"  The  voice  grew 
suddenly  warm  with  love  and  surprise.  "  You  dear 
girl,  where  did  you  come  from?  " 

"  Yes,    it's    Delia,"    smiled    that    young    woman, 

•r  bTBthelyvr' already  halfway  across   the   room.     "  I've 

.  „  t  cpipe.  ,f rojn  an  over-Sunday  at  the  beach  with  two  of 

:'•"•.!  rihe'rotnet  inurse^-and  I'm  on  my  way  back  to  the 

Sanatorium  now.    That  is,  I'm  here  now,  but  I  sha'n't 

be  long.    I  stepped  in  for  —  this,"  she  finished,  giving 

the  owner  of  the  "  dear-me-what-noiw  "  voice  a  hearty 

kiss. 

Mrs.  Carew  frowned  and  drew  back  a  little  coldly. 
The  slight  touch  of  joy  and  animation  that  had  come 
into  her  face  fled,  leaving  only  a  dispirited  fretful- 
ness  that  was  plainly  very  much  at  home  there. 

"Oh,  of  course!  I  might  have  known,"  she  said. 
"You  never  stay  —  here." 

"  Here !  "  Delia  Wetherby  laughed  merrily,  and 
threw  up  her  hands;  then,  abruptly,  her  voice  and 
manner  changed.  She  regarded  her  sister  with  grave, 
tender  eyes.  "  Ruth,  dear,  I  couldn't  —  I  just  couldn't 
live  in  this  house.  You  know  I  couldn't,"  she  finished 
gently. 

Mrs.  Carew  stirred  irritably. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  not,"  she  fenced. 


Delia  Speaks  Her  Mind  3 

Delia  Wetherby  shook  her  head. 

'''  Yes,  you  do,  dear.  You  know  I'm  entirely  out 
of  sympathy  with  it  all :  the  gloom,  the  lack  of  aim, 
the  insistence  on  misery  and  bitterness." 

"  But  I  am  miserable  and  bitter." 

"  You  ought  not  to  be." 

"  Why  not  ?    What  have  I  to  make  me  otherwise  ?  "• 

Delia  Wetherby  gave  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Ruth,  look  here,"  she  challenged.  "  You're  thirty- 
three  years  old.  You  have  good  health  —  or  would 
have,  if  you  treated  yourself  properly  —  and  you  cer 
tainly  have  an  abundance  of  time  and  a  superabun 
dance  of  money.  Surely  anybody  would  say  you 
ought  to  find  something  to  do  this  glorious  morning 
besides  sitting  moped  up  in  this  tomb-like  house  with 
instructions  to  the  maid  that  you'll  see  no  one." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  see  anybody." 

"  Then  I'd  make  myself  want  to." 

Mrs.  Carew  sighed  wearily  and  turned  away  her 
head. 

"  Oh,  Delia,  why  won't  you  ever  understand  ?  I'm 
not  like  you.  I  can't  —  forget." 

A  swift  pain  crossed  the  younger  woman's  face. 

"  You  mean  —  Jamie,  I  suppose.  I  don't  forget  — 
that,  dear.  I  couldn't,  of  course.  But  moping  won't 
help  us  —  find  him." 

"As  if  I  hadn't  tried  to  find  him,  for  eight  long 
years  —  and  by  something  besides  moping,"  flashed 
Mrs.  Carew,  indignantly,  with  a  sob  in  her  voice. 

"Of  course  you  have,  dear,"  soothed  the  other, 
quickly;  "  and  we  shall  keep  on  hunting,  both  of  us, 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


till  we  do  find  him  —  or  die.  But  this  sort  of  thing 
doesn't  help." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  do  —  anything  else/'  mur 
mured  Ruth  Carew,  drearily. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  The  younger 
woman  sat  regarding  her  sister  with  troubled,  disap 
proving  eyes. 

"  Ruth,"  she  said,  at  last,  with  a  touch  of  exasper 
ation,  "  forgive  me,  but  —  are  you  always  going  to 
be  like  this?  You're  widowed,  I'll  admit;  but  your 
married  life  lasted  only  a  year,  and  your  husband  was 
much  older  than  yourself.  You  were  little  more  than 
a  child  at  the  time,  and  that  one  short  year  can't  seem 
much  more  than  a  dream  now.  Surely  that  ought  not 
to  embitter  your  whole  life !  " 

"  No,  oh,  no,"  murmured  Mrs.  Carew,  still  drearily. 

"  Then  are  you  going  to  be  always  like  this?  " 

"  Well,  of  course,  if  I  could  find  Jamie  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know ;  but,  Ruth,  dear,  isn't  there 
anything  in  the  world  but  Jamie  —  to  make  you  any 
happy?" 

"  There  doesn't  seem  to  be,  that  I  can  think  of," 
sighed  Mrs.  Carew,  indifferently. 

"Ruth!"  ejaculated  her  sister,  stung  into  some 
thing  very  like  anger.  Then  suddenly  she  laughed. 
"  Oh,  Ruth,  Ruth,  I'd  like  to  give  you  a  dose  of  Polly 
anna.  I  don't  know  any  one  who  needs  it  more !  " 

Mrs.  Carew  stiffened  a  little. 

"  Well,  what  pollyanna  may  be  I  don't  know,  but 
whatever  it  is,  I  don't  want  it,"  she  retorted  sharply, 
nettled  in  her  turn.  "  This  isn't  your  beloved  Sana- 


Delia  Speaks  Her  Mind 


torium,  and  I'm  not  your  patient  to  be  dosed  and 
bossed,  please  remember." 

Delia  Wetherby's  eyes  danced,  but  her  lips  remained 
unsmiling. 

"  Pollyanna  isn't  a  medicine,  my  dear,"  she  said 
demurely,  "  —  though  I  have  heard  some  people  call 
her  a  tonic.  Pollyanna  is  a  little  girl." 

"A  child?  Well,  how  should  I  know,"  retorted 
the  other,  still  aggrievedly.  "  You  have  your  '  bella 
donna/  so  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  not  '  pollyanna/ 
Besides,  you're  always  recommending  something  for 
me  to  take,  and  you  distinctly  said  *  dose '  —  and  dose 
usually  means  medicine,  of  a  sort." 

"  Well,  Pollyanna  is  a  medicine  —  of  a  sort/' 
smiled  Delia.  "Anyway,  the  Sanatorium  doctors  all 
declare  that  she's  better  than  any  medicine  they  can 
give.  She's  a  little  girl,  Ruth,  twelve  or  thirteen  years 
old,  who  was  at  the  Sanatorium  all  last  summer  and 
most  of  the  winter.  I  didn't  see  her  but  a  month  or 
two,  for  she  left  soon  after  I  arrived.  But  that  was 
long  enough  for  me  to  come  fully  under  her  spell. 
Besides,  the  whole  Sanatorium  is  still  talking  Polly 
anna,  and  playing  her  game." 

"Gome!" 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Delia,  with  a  curious  smile.  "  Her 
'  glad  game/  I'll  never  forget  my  first  introduction 
to  it.  One  feature  of  her  treatment  was  particularly 
disagreeable  and  even  painful.  It  came  every  Tuesday 
morning,  and  very  soon  after  my  arrival  it  fell  to  my 
lot  to  give  it  to  her.  I  was  dreading  it,  for  I  knew 
from  past  experience  with  other  children  what  to 


6  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

expect:  fretfulness  and  tears,  if  nothing  worse.  To 
my  unbounded  amazement  she  greeted  me  with  a  smile 
and  said  she  was  glad  to  see  me;  and,  if  you'll  believe 
it,  there  was  never  so  much  as  a  whimper  from  her 
lips  through  the  whole  ordeal,  though  I  knew  I  was 
hurting  her  cruelly. 

"  I  fancy  I  must  have  said  something  that  showed 
my  surprise,  for  she  explained  earnestly :  '  Oh,  yes,  I 
used  to  feel  that  way,  too,  and  I  did  dread  it  so,  till 
I  happened  to  think  'twas  just  like  Nancy's  wash-days, 
and  I  could  be  gladdest  of  all  on  Tuesdays,  'cause 
there  wouldn't  be  another  one  for  a  whole  week.' ' 

"  Why,  how  extraordinary!  "  frowned  Mrs.  Carew, 
not  quite  comprehending.  "  But,  I'm  sure  I  don't  see 
any  game  to  that." 

"No,  I  didn't,  till  later.  Then  she  told  me.  It 
seems  she  was  the  motherless  daughter  of  a  poor  min 
ister  in  the  West,  and  was  brought  up  by  the  Ladies' 
Aid  Society  and  missionary  barrels.  When  she  was 
a  tiny  girl  she  wanted  a  doll,  and  confidently  expected 
it  in  the  next  barrel ;  but  there  turned  out  to  be  noth 
ing  but  a  pair  of  little  crutches. 

"  The  child  cried,  of  course,  and  it  was  then  that 
her  father  taught  her  the  game  of  hunting  for  some 
thing  to  be  glad  about,  in  everything  that  happened; 
and  he  said  she  could  begin  right  then  by  being  glad 
she  didn't  need  the  crutches.  That  was  the  beginning. 
Pollyanna  said  it  was  a  lovely  game,  and  she'd  been 
playing  it  ever  since;  and  that  the  harder  it  was  to 
find  the  glad  part,  the  more  fun  it  was,  only  when  it 
was  too  awful  hard,  like  she  had  found  it  sometimes." 


Delia  Speaks  Her  Mind 


"Why,  how  extraordinary!"  murmured  Mrs.  Ca- 
rew,  still  not  entirely  comprehending. 

"  You'd  think  so  —  if  you  could  see  the  results  of 
that  game  in  the  Sanatorium,"  nodded  Delia;  "and 
Dr.  Ames  says  he  hears  she's  revolutionized  the  whole 
town  where  she  came  from,  just  the  same  way.  He 
knows  Dr.  Chilton  very  well  —  the  man  that  married 
Pollyanna's  aunt.  And,  by  the  way,  I  believe  that 
marriage  was  one  of  her  ministrations.  She  patched 
up  an  old  lovers'  quarrel  between  them. 

'  You  see,  two  years  ago,  or  more,  Pollyanna's 
father  died,  and  the  little  girl  was  sent  East  to  this 
aunt.  In  October  she  was  hurt  by  an  automobile,  and 
was  told  she  could  never  walk  again.  In  April  Dr. 
Chilton  sent  her  to  the  Sanatorium,  and  she  was  there 
till  last  March  —  almost  a  year.  She  went  home  prac 
tically  cured.  You  should  have  seen  the  child !  There 
was  just  one  cloud  to  mar  her  happiness:  that  she 
couldn't  walk  all  the  way  there.  As  near  as  I  can 
gather,  the  whole  town  turned  out  to  meet  her  with 
brass  bands  and  banners. 

"  But  you  can't  tell  about  Polly  anna.  One  has  to 
see  her.  And  that's  why  I  say  I  wish  you  could  have 
a  dose  of  Pbllyanna.  It  would  do  you  a  world  of 
good." 

Mrs.  Carew  lifted  her  chin  a  little. 

"  Really,  indeed,  I  must  say  I  beg  to  differ  with 
you,"  she  returned  coldly.  "  I  don't  care  to  be  '  revo 
lutionized,'  and  I  have  no  lovers'  quarrel  to  be  patched 
up;  and  if  there  is  anything  that  would  be  insufferable 
to  me,  it  would  be  a  little  Miss  Prim  with  a  long  face 


8  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

preaching  to  me  how  much  I  had  to  be  thankful  for. 
I  never  could  bear  —  "  But  a  ringing  laugh  inter 
rupted  her. 

"  Oh,  Ruth,  Ruth,"  choked  her  sister,  gleefully. 
"Miss  Prim,  indeed  —  Pollyanna!  Oh,  oh,  if  only 
you  could  see  that  child  now !  But  there,  I  might  have 
known.  I  said  one  couldn't  tell  about  Pollyanna.  And 
of  course  you  won't  be  apt  to  see  her.  But  —  Miss 
Prim,  indeed ! "  And  off  she  went  into  another  gale 
of  laughter.  Almost  at  once,  however,  she  sobered 
and  gazed  at  her  sister  with  the  old  troubled  look  in 
her  eyes. 

"Seriously,  dear,  can't  anything  be  done?"  she 
pleaded.  "  You  ought  not  to  waste  your  life  like  this. 
Won't  you  try  to  get  out  a  little  more,  and  — •  meet 
people?" 

11  Why  should  I,  when  I  don't  want  to?  I'm  tired 
of  —  people.  You  know  society  always  bored  me." 

"  Then  why  not  try  some  sort  of  work  —  charity?  " 

Mrs.  Carew  gave  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Delia,  dear,  we've  been  all  over  this  before.  I  do 
give  money  —  lots  of  it,  and  that's  enough.  In  fact, 
I'm  not  sure  but  it's  too  much.  I  don't  believe  in 
pauperizing  people." 

"  But  if  you'd  give  a  little  of  yourself,  dear,"  ven 
tured  Delia,  gently.  "If  you  could  only  get  interested 
in  something  outside  of  yo-ur  own  life,  it  would  help 
so  much;  and  —  " 

"  Now,  Delia,  dear,"  interrupted  the  elder  sister, 
restively,  "  I  love  you,  and  I  love  to  have  you  come 
here;  but  I  simply  cannot  endure  being  preached  to. 


Delia  Speaks  Her  Mind 


It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  turn  yourself  into  an  angel 
of  mercy  and  give  cups  of  cold  water,  and  bandage  up 
broken  heads,  and  all  that.  Perhaps  you  can  forget 
Jamie  that  way;  but  I  couldn't.  It  would  only  make 
me  think  of  him  all  the  more,  wondering  if  he  had  any 
one  to  give  him  water  and  bandage  up  his  head.  Be 
sides,  the  whole  thing  would  be  very  distasteful  to  me 
—  mixing  with  all  sorts  and  kinds  of  people  like  that." 

"Did  you  ever  try  it?" 

'  Why,  no,  of  course  not!"     Mrs.  Carew's  voice 
was  scornfully  indignant. 

"  Then  haw  can  you  know  —  till  you  do  try  ?  " 
asked  the  young  nurse,  rising  to  her  feet  a  little  wear 
ily.  "  But  I  must  go,  dear.  I'm  to  meet  the  girls  at 
the  South  Station.  Our  train  goes  at  twelve-thirty. 
I'm  sorry  if  I've  made  you  cross  with  me,"  she  fin 
ished,  as  she  kissed  her  sister  good-by. 

"  I'm  not  cross  with  you,  Delia,"  sighed  Mrs.  Ca- 
rew;  "but  if  you  only  would  understand!" 

One  minute  later  Delia  Wetherby  made  her  way 
through  the  silent,  gloomy  halls,  and  out  to  the  street. 
Face,  step,  and  manner  were  very  different  from  what 
they  had  been  when  she  tripped  up  the  steps  less  than 
half  an  hour  before.  All  the  alertness,  the  springiness, 
the  joy  of  living  were  gone.  For  half  a  block  she 
listlessly  dragged  one  foot  after  the  other.  Then, 
suddenly,  she  threw  back  her  head  and  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"  One  week  in  that  house  would  kill  me,"  she  shud 
dered.  "  I  don't  believe  even  Pollyanna  herself  could 
so  much  as  make  a  dent  in  the  gloom !  And  the  only 


10  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

thing  she  could  be  glad  for  there  would  be  that  she 
didn't  have  to  stay." 

That  this  avowed  disbelief  in  Pollyanna's  ability 
to  bring  about  a  change  for  the  better  in  Mrs.  Carew's 
home  was  not  Delia  Wetherby's  real  opinion,  however, 
was  quickly  proved;  for  no  sooner  had  the  nurse 
reached  the  Sanatorium  than  she  learned  something 
that  sent  her  flying  back  over  the  fifty-mile  journey 
to  Boston  the  very  next  day. 

So  exactly  as  before  did  she  find  circumstances  at 
her  sister's  home  that  it  seemed  almost  as  if  Mrs. 
Carew  had  not  moved  since  she  left  her. 

"  Ruth,"  she  burst  out  eagerly,  after  answering  her 
sister's  surprised  greeting,  "  I  just  had  to  come,  and 
you  must,  this  once,  yield  to  me  and  let  me  have  my 
way.  Listen!  You  can  have  that  little  Pollyanna 
here,  I  think,  if  you  will." 

"  But  I  won't,"  returned  Mrs.  Carew,  with  chilly 
promptness. 

Delia  Wetherby  did  not  seem  to  have  heard.  She 
plunged  on  excitedly. 

"  When  I  got  back  yesterday  I  found  that  Dr. 
Ames  had  had  a  letter  from  Dr.  Chilton,  the  one  who 
married  Pollyanna's  aunt,  you  know.  Well,  it  seems 
in  it  he  said  he  was  going  to  Germany  for  the  winter 
for  a  special  course,  and  was  going  to  take  his  wife 
with  him,  if  he  could  persuade  her  that  Pollyanna 
would  be  all  right  in  some  boarding  school  here  mean 
time.  But  Mrs.  Chilton  didn't  want  to  leave  Polly 
anna  in  just  a  school,  and  so  he  was  afraid  she 
wouldn't  go.  And  now,  Ruth,  there's  our  chance.  I 


Delia  Speaks  Her  Mind  11 

want  you  to  take  Pollyanna  this  winter,  and  let  her 
go  to  some  school  around  here." 

"  What  an  absurd  idea,  Delia !  As  if  I  wanted  a 
child  here  to  bother  with !  " 

"  She  won't  bother  a  bit.  She  must  be  nearly  or 
quite  thirteen  by  this  time,  and  she's  the  most  capable 
little  thing  you  ever  saw." 

"I  don't  like  'capable'  children,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Carew  perversely  —  but  she  laughed ;  and  because  she 
did  laugh,  her  sister  took  sudden  courage  and  re 
doubled  her  efforts. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  suddenness  of  the  appeal,  or  the 
novelty  of  it.  Perhaps  it  was  because  the  story  of 
Pollyanna  had  somehow  touched  Ruth  Carew's  heart. 
Perhaps  it  was  only  her  unwillingness  to  refuse  her 
sister's  impassioned  plea.  Whatever  it  was  that  finally 
turned  the  scale,  when  Delia  Wetherby  took  her  hur 
ried  leave  half  an  hour  later,  she  carried  with  her  Ruth 
Carew's  promise  to  receive  Pollyanna  into  her  home. 

"  But  just  remember,"  Mrs.  Carew  warned  her  at 
parting,  "  just  remember  that  the  minute  that  child 
begins  to  preach  to  me  and  to  tell  me  to  count  my 
mercies,  back  she  goes  to  you,  and  you  may  do  what 
you  please  with  her.  7  sha'n't  keep  her ! " 

"  I'll  remember  —  but  I'm  not  worrying  any," 
nodded  the  younger  woman,  in  farewell.  To  herself 
she  whispered,  as  she  hurried  away  from  the  house: 
"  Half  my  job  is  done.  Now  for  the  other  half  —  to 
get  Pollyanna  to  come.  But  she's  just  got  to  come. 
I'll  write  that  letter  so  they  can't  help  letting  her 
come!" 


CHAPTER    II 

SOME   OLD    FRIENDS 

IN  Beldingsville  that  August  day,  Mrs.  Chilton 
waited  until  Pollyanna  had  gone  to  bed  before  she 
spoke  to  her  husband  about  the  letter  that  had  come 
in  the  morning  mail.  For  that  matter,  she  would  have 
had  to  wait,  anyway,  for  crowded  office  hours,  and  the 
doctor's  two  long  drives  over  the  hills  had  left  no 
time  for  domestic  conferences. 

It  was  about  half -past  nine,  indeed,  when  the  doctor 
entered  his  wife's  sitting-room.  His  tired  face  lighted 
at  sight  of  her,  but  at  once  a  perplexed  questioning 
came  to  his  eyes. 

"Why,  Polly,  dear,  what  is  it?"  he  asked  con 
cernedly. 

His  wife  gave  a  rueful  laugh. 

"  Well,  it's  a  letter  —  though  I  didn't  mean  you 
should  find  out  by  just  looking  at  me." 

"  Then  you  mustn't  look  so  I  can,"  he  smiled.  "  But 
what  is  it?" 

Mrs.  Chilton  hesitated,  pursed  her  lips,  then  picked 
up  a  letter  near  her. 

"  I'll  read  it  to  you,"  she  said.  "  It's  from  a  Miss 
Delia  Wetherby  at  Dr.  Ames'  Sanatorium." 

"  All  right.  Fire  away,"  directed  the  man,  throw- 

12 


Some  Old  Friends  13 

ing  himself  at  full  length  on  to  the  couch  near  his 
wife's  chair. 

But  his  wife  did  not  at  once  "  fire  away."  She  got 
up  first  and  covered  her  husband's  recumbent  figure 
with  a  gray  worsted  afghan.  Mrs.  Chilton's  wedding 
day  was  but  a  year  behind  her.  She  was  forty-two 
now.  It  seemed  sometimes  as  if  into  that  one  short 
year  of  wifehood  she  had  tried  to  crowd  all  the  loving 
service  and  "  babying  "  that  had  been  accumulating 
through  twenty  years  of  lovelessness  and  loneliness. 
Nor  did  the  doctor  —  who  had  been  forty-five  on  his 
wedding  day,  and  who  could  remember  nothing  but 
loneliness  and  lovelessness  —  on  his  part  object  in  the 
least  to  this  concentrated  "  tending."  He  acted,  in 
deed,  as  if  he  quite  enjoyed  it  —  though  he  was  care 
ful  not  to  show  it  too  ardently:  he  had  discovered 
that  Mrs.  Polly  had  for  so  long  been  Miss  Polly  that 
she  was  inclined  to  retreat  in  a  panic  and  dub  her 
ministrations  "  silly,"  if  they  were  received  with  too 
much  notice  and  eagerness.  So  he  contented  himself 
now  with  a  mere  pat  of  her  hand  as  she  gave  the 
afghan  a  final  smooth,  and  settled  herself  to  read  the 
letter  aloud. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Chilton,"  Delia  Wetherby  had  writ 
ten.  "  Just  six  times  I  have  commenced  a  letter  to 
you,  and  torn  it  up;  so  now  I  have  decided  not  to 
*  commence '  at  all,  but  just  to  tell  you  what  I  want 
at  once.  I  want  Pollyanna.  May  I  have  her? 

"  I  met  you  and  your  husband  last  March  when  you 
came  on  to  take 'Pollyanna  home,  but  I  presume  you 
don't  remember  me.  I  am  asking  Dr.  Ames  (who 


14  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

does  know  me  very  well)  to  write  your  husband,  so 
that  you  may  (I  hope)  not  fear  to  trust  your  dear 
little  niece  to  us. 

"  I  understand  that  you  would  go  to  Germany  with 
your  husband  but  for  leaving  Pollyanna;  and  so  I 
am  making  so  bold  as  to  ask  you  to  let  us  take  her. 
Indeed,  I  am  begging  you  to  let  us  have  her,  dear  Mrs. 
Chilton.  And  now  let  me  tell  you  why. 

"  My  sister,  Mrs.  Carew,  is  a  lonely,  broken 
hearted,  discontented,  unhappy  woman.  She  lives  in 
a  world  of  gloom,  into  which  no  sunshine  penetrates. 
Now  I  believe  that  if  anything  on  earth  can  bring  the 
sunshine  into  her  life,  it  is  your  niece,  Pollyanna. 
Won't  you  let  her  try?  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  what 
she  has  done  for  the  Sanatorium  here,  but  nobody 
could  tell.  You  -would  have  to  see  it.  I  long  ago  dis 
covered  that  you  can't  tell  about  Pollyanna.  The 
minute  you  try  to,  she  sounds  priggish  and  preachy, 
and  —  impossible.  Yet  you  and  I  know  she  is  any 
thing  but  that.  You  just  have  to  bring  Pollyanna  on 
to  the  scene  and  let  her  speak  for  herself.  And  so  I 
want  to  take  her  to  my  sister  —  and  let  her  speak  for 
herself.  She  would  attend  school,  of  course,  but 
meanwhile  I  truly  believe  she  would  be  healing  the 
wound  in  my  sister's  heart. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  end  this  letter.  I  believe  it's 
harder  than  it  was  to  begin  it.  I'm  afraid  I  don't 
want  to  end  it  at  all.  I  just  want  to  keep  talking  and 
talking,  for  fear,  if  I  stop,  it'll  give  you. a  chance  to 
say  no.  And  so,  if  you  are  tempted  to  say  that  dread 
ful  word,  won't  you  please  consider  that  —  that  I'm 


Some  Old  Friends  15 

still  talking,  and  telling  you  how  much  we  want  and 
need  Pollyanna. 

"  Hopefully  yours, 

"  BELLA  WETHERBY." 

"There!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Chilton,  as  she  laid  the 
letter  down.  "  Did  you  ever  read  such  a  remarkable 
letter,  or  hear  of  a  more  preposterous,  absurd  re 
quest?" 

"  Well,  I'm  not  so  sure,"  smiled  the  doctor.  "  I 
don't  think  it's  absurd  to  want  Pollyanna." 

"  But  —  but  the  way  she  puts  it  —  healing  the 
wound  in  her  sister's  heart,  and  all  that.  One  would 
think  the  child  was  some  sort  of  —  of  medicine !  " 

The  doctor  laughed  outright,  and  raised  his  eye 
brows. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  so  sure  but  she  is,  Polly.  I  always 
said  I  wished  I  could  prescribe  her  and  buy  her  as  I 
would  a  box  of  pills;  and  Charlie  Ames  says  they  al 
ways  made  it  a  point  at  the  Sanatorium  to  give  their 
patients  a  dose  of  Pollyanna  as  soon  as  possible  after 
their  arrival,  during  the  whole  year  she  was  there." 

"  '  Dose,'  indeed!  "  scorned  Mrs.  Chilton. 

"  Then  —  you  don't  think  you'll  let  her  go?" 

"  Go  ?  Why,  of  course  not !  Do  you  think  I'd  let 
that  child  go  to  perfect  strangers  like  that?  —  and 
such  strangers!  Why,  Thomas,  I  should  expect  that 
that  nurse  would  have  her  all  bottled  and  labeled  with 
full  directions  on  the  outside  how  to  take  her,  by  the 
time  I'd  got  back  from  Germany." 

Again  the  doctor  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 


16  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

heartily,  but  only  for  a  moment.  His  face  changed 
perceptibly  as  he  reached  into  his  pocket  for  a  letter. 

"  I  heard  from  Dr.  Ames  myself,  this  morning," 
he  said,  with  an  odd  something  in  his  voice  that 
brought  a  puzzled  frown  to  his  wife's  brow.  "  Sup 
pose  I  read  you  my  letter  now." 

"  Dear  Tom,"  he  began.  "  Miss  Delia  Wetherby 
has  asked  me  to  give  her  and  her  sister  a  '  character/ 
which  I  am  very  glad  to  do.  I  have  known  the  Weth 
erby  girls  from  babyhood.  They  come  from  a  fine 
old  family,  and  are  thoroughbred  gentlewomen.  You 
need  not  fear  on  that  score. 

"  There  were  three  sisters,  Doris,  Ruth,  and  Delia. 
Doris  married  a  man  named  John  Kent,  much  against 
the  family's  wishes.  Kent  came  from  good  stock,  but 
was  not  much  himself,  I  guess,  and  was  certainly  a 
very  eccentric,  disagreeable  man  to  deal  with.  He  was 
bitterly  angry,  at  the  Wetherbys'  attitude  toward  him, 
and  there  was  little  communication  between  the  fam 
ilies  until  the  baby  came.  The  Wetherbys  worshiped 
the  little  boy,  James  — '  Jamie/  as  they  called  him. 
Doris,  the  mother,  died  when  the  boy  was  four  years 
old,  and  the  Wetherbys  were  making  every  effort  to 
get  the  father  to  give  the  child  entirely  up  to  them, 
when  suddenly  Kent  disappeared,  taking  the  boy  with 
him.  He  has  never  been  heard  from  since,  though  a 
world-wide  search  has  been  made. 

"  The  loss  practically  killed  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Weth 
erby.  They  both  died  soon  after.  Ruth  was  already 
married  and  widowed.  Her  husband  was  a  man 
named  Carew,  very  wealthy,  and  much  older  than 


Some  Old  Friends  17 

herself.  He  lived  but  a  year  or  so  after  marriage, 
and  left  her  with  a  young  son  who  also  died  within  a 
year. 

"  From  the  time  little  Jamie  disappeared,  Ruth  and 
Delia  seemed  to  have  but  one  object  in  life,  and  that 
was  to  find  him.  They  have  spent  money  like  water, 
and  have  all  but  moved  heaven  and  earth ;  but  without 
avail.  In  time  Delia  took  up  nursing.  She  is  doing 
splendid  work,  and  has  become  the  cheerful,  efficient, 
sane  woman  that  she  was  meant  to  be  —  though  still 
never  forgetting  her  lost  nephew,  and  never  leaving 
unfollowed  any  possible  clew  that  might  lead  to  his 
discovery. 

"  But  with  Mrs.  Carew  it  is  quite  different.  After 
losing  her  own  boy,  she  seemed  to  concentrate  all  her 
thwarted  mother-love  on  her  sister's  son.  As  you  can 
imagine,  she  was  frantic  when  he  disappeared.  That 
was  eight  years  ago  —  for  her,  eight  long  years  of 
misery,  gloom,  and  bitterness.  Everything  that  money 
can  buy,  of  course,  is  at  her  command;  but  nothing 
pleases  her,  nothing  interests  her.  Delia  feels  that  the 
time  has  come  when  she  must  be  gotten  out  of  herself, 
at  all  hazards;  and  Delia  believes  that  your  wife's 
sunny  little  niece,  Pollyanna,  possesses  the  magic  key 
that  will  unlock  the  door  to  a  new  existence  for  her. 
Such  being  the  case,  I  hope  you  will  see  your  way  clear 
to  granting  her  request.  And  may  I  add  that  I,  too, 
personally,  would  appreciate  the  favor;  for  Ruth 
Carew  and  her  sister  are  very  old,  dear  friends  of 
my  wife  and  myself;  and  what  touches  them  touches 
us.  As  ever  yours,  CHARLIE." 


18  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

The  letter  finished,  there  was  a  long  silence,  so  long 
a  silence  that  the  doctor  uttered  a  quiet,  "  Well, 
Polly?" 

Still  there  was  silence.  The  doctor,  watching  his 
wife's  face  closely,  saw  that  the  usually  firm  lips  and 
chin  were  trembling.  He  waited  then  quietly  until  his 
wife  spoke. 

"  How  soon  —  do  you  think  —  they'll  expect  her?" 
she  asked  at  last. 

In  spite  of  himself  Dr.  Chilton  gave  a  slight  start. 

"  You  mean  —  that  you  will  let  her  go  ?  "  he  cried. 

His  wife  turned  indignantly. 

"  Why,  Thomas  Chilton,  what  a  question !  Do  you 
suppose,  after  a  letter  like  that,  I  could  do  anything 
but  let  her  go?  Besides,  didn't  Dr.  Ames  himself 
ask  us  to?  Do  you  think,  after  what  that  man  has 
done  for  Pollyanna,  that  I'd  refuse  him  anything  — 
no  matter  what  it  was  ?  " 

"  Dear,  dear !  I  hope,  now,  that  the  doctor  won't 
take  it  into  his  head  to  ask  for  —  for  you,  my  love," 
murmured  the  husband-of-a-year,  with  a  whimsical 
smile.  But  his  wife  only  gave  him  a  deservedly  scorn 
ful  glance,  and  said: 

"  You  may  write  Dr.  Ames  that  we'll  send  Polly 
anna;  and  ask  him  to  tell  Miss  Wetherby  to  give  us 
full  instructions.  It  must  be  sometime  before  the 
tenth  of  next  month,  of  course,  for  you  sail  then; 
and  I  want  to  see  the  child  properly  established  myself 
before  I  leave,  naturally." 

"  When  will  you  tell  Pollyanna?" 

""  To-morrow,  probably." 


Some  Old  Friends 


"What  will  you  tell  her?" 

"  I  don't  know  —  exactly  ;  but  not  any  more  than 
I  can't  help,  certainly.  Whatever  happens,  Thomas, 
we  don't  want  to  spoil  Pollyanna;  and  no  child  could 
help  being  spoiled  if  she  once  got  it  into  her  head  that 
she  was  a  sort  of  —  of  —  " 

"Of  medicine  bottle  with  a  label  of  full  instructions 
for  taking  ?  "  interpolated  the  doctor,  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,"  sighed  Mrs.  Chilton.  "It's  her  uncon 
sciousness  that  saves  the  whole  thing.  You  know  that, 
dear." 

'  Yes,  I  know,"  nodded  the  man. 

"  She  knows,  of  course,  that  you  and  I,  and  half 
the  town  are  playing  the  game  with  her,  and  that  we 

—  we  are  wonderfully  happier  because  we  are  playing 
it."    Mrs.  Chilton's  voice  shook  a  little,  then  went  on 
more  steadily.    "  But  if,  consciously,  she  should  begin 
to  be  anything  but  her  own  natural,  sunny,  happy  little 
self,  playing  the  game  that  her  father  taught  her,  she 
would  be  —  just  what  that  nurse  said  she  sounded  like 

—  '  impossible/     So,  whatever  I  tell  her,  I  sha'n't  tell 
her  that  she's  going  down  to  Mrs.  Carew's  to  cheer 
her  up,"  concluded  Mrs.  Chilton,  rising  to  her  feet 
with  decision,  and  putting  away  her  work. 

"  Which  is  where  I  think  you're  wise,"  approved  the 
doctor. 

Pollyanna  was  told  the  next  day;  and  this  was  the 
manner  of  it. 

"  My  dear,"  began  her  aunt,  when  the  two  were 
alone  together  that  morning,  "  how  would  you  like 
to  spend  next  winter  in  Boston?  " 


20  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"With  you?" 

"  No ;  I  have  decided  to  go  with  your  uncle  to  Ger 
many.  But  Mrs.  Carew,  a  dear  friend  of  Dr.  Ames, 
has  asked  you  to  come  and  stay  with  her  for  the  win 
ter,  and  I  think  I  shall  let  you  go." 

Pollyanna's  face  fell. 

"  But  in  Boston  I  won't  have  Jimmy,  or  Mr.  Pen- 
dleton,  or  Mrs.  Snow,  or  anybody  that  I  know,  Aunt 
Polly." 

"  No,  dear;  but  you  didn't  have  them  when  you 
came  here  —  till  you  found  them." 

Pollyanna  gave  a  sudden  smile. 

"  Why,  Aunt  Polly,  so  I  didn't !  And  that  means 
that  down  to  Boston  there  are  some  Jimmys  and  Mr. 
Pendletons  and  Mrs.  Snows  waiting  for  me  that  I 
don't  know,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Then  I  can  be  glad  of  that.  I  believe  now,  Aunt 
Polly,  you  know  how  to  play  the  game  better  than  I 
do.  I  never  thought  of  the  folks  down  there  waiting 
for  me  to  know  them.  And  there's  such  a  lot  of  'em, 
too !  I  saw  some  of  them  when  I  was  there  two  years 
ago  with  Mrs.  Gray.  We  were  there  two  whole  hours, 
you  know,  on  my  way  here  from  out  West. 

"  There  was  a  man  in  the  station  —  a  perfectly 
lovely  man  who  told  me  where  to  get  a  drink  of  water. 
Do  you  suppose  he's  there  now?  I'd  like  to  know 
him.  And  there  was  a  nice  lady  with  a  little  girl. 
They  live  in  Boston.  They  said  they  did.  The  little 
girl's  name  was  Susie  Smith.  Perhaps  I  could  get  to 
know  them.  Do  you  suppose  I  could  ?  And  there  was 


Some  Old  Friends 


a  boy,  and  another  lady  with  a  baby  —  only  they  lived 
in  Honolulu,  so  probably  I  couldn't  find  them  there 
now.  But  there'd  be  Mrs.  Carew,  anyway.  Who  is 
Mrs.  Carew,  Aunt  Polly?  Is  she  a  relation?  " 

"Dear  me,  Pollyanna!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Chilton, 
half  -laughingly,  half-despairingly.  "  How  do  you 
expect  anybody  to  keep  up  with  your  tongue,  much 
less  your  thoughts,  when  they  skip  to  Honolulu  and 
back  again  in  two  seconds  !  No,  Mrs.  Carew  isn't  any 
relation  to  us.  She's  Miss  Delia  Wetherby's  sister. 
Do  you  remember  Miss  Wetherby  at  the  Sanato 
rium?" 

Pollyanna  clapped  her  hands. 

"Her  sister?  Miss  Wetherby's  sister?  Oh,  then 
she'll  be  lovely,  I  know.  Miss  Wetherby  was.  I  loved 
Miss  Wetherby.  She  had  little  smile-wrinkles  all 
around  her  eyes  and  mouth,  and  she  knew  the  nicest 
stories.  I  only  had  her  two  months,  though,  because 
she  only  got  there  a  little  while  before  I  came  away. 
At  first  I  was  sorry  that  I  hadn't  had  her  all  the  time, 
but  afterwards  I  was  glad;  for  you  see  if  I  had  had 
her  all  the  time,  it  would  have  been  harder  to  say 
good-by  than  'twas  when  I'd  only  had  her  a  little 
while.  And  now  it'll  seem  as  if  I  had  her  again, 
'cause  I'm  going  to  have  her  sister." 

Mrs.  Chilton  drew  in  her  breath  and  bit  her  lip. 

"  But,  Pollyanna,  dear,  you  must  not  expect  that 
they'll  be  quite  alike,"  she  ventured. 

"  Why,  they're  sisters,  Aunt  Polly,"  argued  the  lit 
tle  girl,  her  eyes  widening  ;  "  and  I  thought  sisters 
were  always  alike.  We  had  two  sets  of  'em  in  the 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


Ladies'  Aiders.  One  set  was  twins,  and  they  were 
so  alike  you  couldn't  tell  which  was  Mrs.  Peck  and 
which  was  Mrs.  Jones,  until  a  wart  grew  on  Airs. 
Jones's  nose,  then  of  course  we  could,  because  we 
looked  for  the  wart  the  first  thing.  And  that's  what 
I  told  her  one  day  when  she  was  complaining  that 
people  called  her  Mrs.  Peek,  and  I  said  if  they'd  only 
look  for  the  wart  as  I  did,  they'd  know  right  off.  But 
she  acted  real  cross  —  I  mean  displeased,  and  I'm 
afraid  she  didn't  like  it  —  though  I  don't  see  why; 
for  I  should  have  thought  she'd  been  glad  there  was 
something  they  could  be  told  apart  by,  'specially  as 
she  was  the  president,  and  didn't  like  it  when  folks 
didn't  act  as  if  she  was  the  president  —  best  seats 
and  introductions  and  special  attentions  at  church 
suppers,  you  know.  But  she  didn't,  and  afterwards 
I  heard  Mrs.  White  tell  Mrs.  Rawson  that  Mrs.  Jones 
had  done  everything  she  could  think  of  to  get  rid  of 
that  wart,  even  to  trying  to  put  salt  on  a  bird's  tail. 
But  I  don't  see  how  that  could  do  any  good.  Aunt 
Polly,  does  putting  salt  on  a  bird's  tail  help  the  warts 
on  people's  noses  ?" 

"  Of  course  not,  child !  How  you  do  run  on,  Polly 
anna,  especially  if  you  get  started  on  those  Ladies' 
Aiders!" 

"  Do  I,  Aunt  Polly?  "  asked  the  little  girl,  ruefully. 
"  And  does  it  plague  you  ?  I  don't  mean  to  plague 
you,  honestly,  Aunt  Polly.  And,  anyway,  if  I  do 
plague  you  about  those  Ladies'  Aiders,  you  can  be 
kind  o'  glad,  for  if  I'm  thinking  of  the  Aiders,  I'm 
sure  to  be  thinking  how  glad  I  am  that  I  don't  belong 


Some  Old  Friends  23 

to  them  any  longer,  but  have  got  an  aunt  all  my  own. 
You  can  be  glad  of  that,  can't  you,  Aunt  Polly?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear,  of  course  I  can,  of  course  I  can," 
laughed  Mrs.  Chilton,  rising  to  leave  the  room,  and 
feeling  suddenly  very  guilty  that  she  was  conscious 
sometimes  of  a  little  of  her  old  irritation  against 
Pollyanna's  perpetual  gladness. 

During  the  next  few  days,  while  letters  concerning 
Pollyanna's  winter  stay  in  Boston  were  flying  back 
and  forth,  Pollyanna  herself  was  preparing  for  that 
stay  by  a  series  of  farewell  visits  to  her  Beldingsville 
friends. 

Everybody  in  the  little  Vermont  village  knew  Polly 
anna  now,  and  almost  everybody  was  playing  the  game 
with  her.  The  few  who  were  not,  were  not  refraining 
because  of  ignorance  of  what  the  glad  game  was.  So 
to  one  house  after  another  Pollyanna  carried  the  news 
now  that  she  was  going  down  to  Boston  to  spend  the 
winter;  and  loudly  rose  the  clamor  of  regret  and 
remonstrance,  all  the  way  from  Nancy  in  Aunt  Polly's 
own  kitchen  to  the  great  house  on  the  hill  where  lived 
John  Pendleton. 

Nancy  did  not  hesitate  to  say  —  to  every  one  except 
her  mistress  —  that  she  considered  this  Boston  trip 
all  foolishness,  and  that  for  her  part  she  would  have 
been  glad  to  take  Miss  Pollyanna  home  with  her  to 
the  Corners,  she  would,  she  would;  and  then  Mrs. 
Polly  could  have  gone  to  Germany  all  she  wanted 
to. 

On  the  hill  John  Pendleton  said  practically  the  same 
thing,  only  he  did  not  hesitate  to  say  it  to  Mrs.  Chilton 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


herself.  As  for  Jimmy,  the  twelve-year-old  boy  whom 
John  Pendleton  had  taken  into  his  home  because  Pol 
lyanna  wanted  him  to,  and  whom  he  had  now  adopted 
—  because  he  wanted  to  himself  —  as  for  Jimmy, 
Jimmy  was  indignant,  and  he  was  not  slow  to  show  it. 

"  But  you've  just  come,"  he  reproached  Pollyanna, 
in  the  tone  of  voice  a  small  boy  is  apt  to  use  when  he 
wants  to  hide  the  fact  that  he  has  a  heart. 

"  Why,  I've  been  here  ever  since  the  last  of  March. 
Besides,  it  isn't  as  if  I  was  going  to  stay.  It's  only 
for  this  winter." 

"  I  don't  care.  You've  just  been  away  for  a  whole 
year,  'most,  and  if  I'd  s'posed  you  was  going  away 
again  right  off,  the  first  thing,  I  wouldn't  have  helped 
one  mite  to  meet  you  with  flags  and  bands  and  things, 
that  day  you  come  from  the  Sanatorium." 

"  Why,  Jimmy  Bean  !  "  ejaculate3  Pollyanna,  in 
amazed  disapproval.  Then,  with  a  touch  of  superi 
ority  born  of  hurt  pride,  she  observed:  "I'm  sure  I 
didn't  ask  you  to  meet  me  with  bands  and  things  — 
and  you  made  two  mistakes  in  that  sentence.  You 
shouldn't  say  '  you  was  '  ;  and  I  think  *  you  come  '  is 
wrong.  It  doesn't  sound  right,  anyway." 

"  Well,  who  cares  if  I  did?" 

Pollyanna's  eyes  grew  still  more  disapproving. 

"  You  said  you  did  —  when  you  asked  me  this  sum 
mer  to  tell  you  when  you  said  things  wrong,  because 
Mr.  Pendleton  was  trying  to  make  you  talk  right." 

"  Well,  if  you'd  been  brought  up  in  a  'sylum  with 
out  any  folks  that  cared,  instead  of  by  a  whole  lot  of 
old  women  who  didn't  have  anything  to  do  but  tell  you 


Some  Old  Friends  25 

how  to  talk  right,  maybe  you'd  say  '  you  was/  and  a 
whole  lot  more  worse  things,  Pollyanna  Whittier!  " 

"Why,  Jimmy  Bean!"  flared  Pollyanna.  "  My 
Ladies'  Aiders  weren't  old  women  —  that  is,  not  many 
of  them,  so  very  old,"-  she  corrected  hastily,  her  usual 
proclivity  for  truth  and  literalness  superseding  her 
anger;  "  and  —  " 

"  Well,  I'm  not  Jimmy  Bean,  either,"  interrupted 
the  boy,  uptilting  his  chin. 

"  You're  —  not  —  Why,  Jimmy  Be What  do 

you  mean  ?  "  demanded  the  little  girl. 

"  I've  been  adopted,  legally.  He's  been  intending 
to  do  it,  all  along,  he  says,  only  he  didn't  get  to  it. 
Now  he's  done  it.  I'm  to  be  called  '  Jimmy  Pendle- 
ton,'  and  I'm  to  call  him  Uncle  John,  only  I  ain't  — 
are  not  —  I  mean,  I  am  not  used  to  it  yet,  so  I  hain't  — 
haven't  begun  to  call  him  that,  much." 

The  boy  still  spoke  crossly,  aggrievedly,  but  every 
trace  of  displeasure  had  fled  from  the  little  girl's  face 
at  his  words.  She  clapped  her  hands  joyfully. 

"  Oh,  how  splendid !  Now  you've  really  got  folks 
• —  folks  that  care,  you  know.  And  you  won't  ever 
have  to  explain  that  he  wasn't  born  your  folks,  'cause 
your  name's  the  same  now.  I'm  so  glad,  glad, 
GLAD!" 

The  boy  got  up  suddenly  from  the  stone  wall  where 
they  had  been  sitting,  and  walked  off.  His  cheeks 
felt  hot,  and  his  eyes  smarted  with  tears.  It  was  to 
Pollyanna  that  he  owed  it  all  - —  this  great  good  that 
had  come  to  him;  and  he  knew  it.  And  it  was  to 
Pollyanna  that  he  had  just  now  been  saying  — 


26  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

He  kicked  a  small  stone  fiercely,  then  another,  and 
another.  He  thought  those  hot  tears  in  his  eyes  were 
going  to  spill  over  and  roll  down  his  cheeks  in  spite 
of  himself.  He  kicked  another  stone,  then  another; 
then  he  picked  up  a  third  stone  and  threw  it  with  all 
his  might.  A  minute  later  he  strolled  back  to  Polly 
anna  still  sitting  on  the  stone  wall. 

"  I  bet  you  I  can  hit  that  pine  tree  down  there  be 
fore  you  can,"  he  challenged  airily. 

"  Bet  you  can't,"  cried  Pollyanna,  scrambling  down 
from  her  perch. 

The  race  was  not  run  after  all,  for  Pollyanna  re 
membered  just  in  time  that  running  fast  was  yet  one 
of  the  forbidden  luxuries  for  her.  But  so  far  as 
Jimmy  was  concerned,  it  did  not  matter.  His  cheeks 
were  no  longer  hot,  his  eyes  were  not  threatening  to 
overflow  with  tears.  Jimmy  was  himself  again. 


CHAPTER    III 

A   DOSE   OF   POLLYANNA 

As  the  eighth  of  September  approached  —  the  day 
Pollyanna  was  to  arrive  —  Mrs.  Ruth  Carew  became 
more  and  more  nervously  exasperated  with  herself. 
She  declared  that  she  had  regretted  just  once  her 
promise  to  take  the  child  —  and  that  was  ever  since 
she  had  given  it.  Before  twenty-four  hours  had 
passed  she  had,  indeed,  written  to  her  sister  demand 
ing  that  she  be  released  from  the  agreement;  but 
Delia  had  answered  that  it  was  quite  too  late,  as  al 
ready  both  she  and  Dr.  Ames  had  written  the  Chiltons. 

Soon  after  that  had  come  Delia's  letter  saying  that 
Mrs.  Chilton  had  given  her  consent,  and  would  in  a 
few  days  come  to  Boston  to  make  arrangements  as  to 
school,  and  the  like.  So  there  was  nothing  to  be  done, 
naturally,  but  to  let  matters  take  their  course.  Mrs. 
Carew  realized  that,  and  submitted  to  the  inevitable, 
but  with  poor  grace.  True,  she  tried  to  be  decently 
civil  when  Delia  and  Mrs.  Chilton  made  their  expected 
appearance;  but  she  was  very  glad  that  limited  time 
made  Mrs.  Chilton's  stay  of  very  short  duration,  and 
full  to  the  brim  of  business. 

It  was  well,  indeed,  perhaps,  that  Pollyanna's  arrival 

was  to  be  at  a  date  no  later  than  the  eighth ;  for  time, 

instead  of  reconciling  Mrs.  Carew  to  the  prospective 

:new  member  of  her  household,  was  filling  her  with 

27 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


angry  impatience  at  what  she  was  pleased  to  call  her 
"  absurd  yielding  to  Delia's  crazy  scheme." 

Nor  was  Delia  herself  in  the  least  unaware  of  her 
sister's  state  of  mind.  If  outwardly  she  maintained 
a  bold  front,  inwardly  she  was  very  fearful  as  to  re 
sults;  but  on  Pollyanna  she  was  pinning  her  faith, 
and  because  she  did  pin  her  faith  on  Pollyanna,  she 
determined  on  the  bold  stroke  of  leaving  the  little  girl 
to  begin  her  fight  entirely  unaided  and  alone.  She 
contrived,  therefore,  that  Mrs.  Carew  should  meet 
them  at  the  station  upon  their  arrival ;  then,  as  soon 
as  greetings  and  introductions  'were  over,  she  hur 
riedly  pleaded  a  previous  engagement  and  took  herself 
off.  Mrs.  Carew,  therefore,  had  scarcely  time  to  look 
at  her  new  charge  before  she  found  herself  alone  with 
the  child. 

"  Oh,  but  Delia,  Delia,  you  mustn't  — - 1  can't  —  " 
she  called  agitatedly,  after  the  retreating  figure  of  the 
nurse. 

But  Delia,  if  she  heard,  did  not  heed;  and,  plainly 
annoyed  and  vexed,  Mrs.  Carew  turned  back  to  the 
child  at  her  side. 

"  What  a  shame!  She  didn't  hear,  did  she?  "  Pol 
lyanna  was  saying,  her  eyes,  also,  wistfully  following 
the  nurse.  "  And  I  didn't  want  her  to  go  now  a  bit. 
But  then,  I've  got  you,  haven't  I  ?  I  can  be  glad  for 
that." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you've  got  me  —  and  I've  got  you,"  re 
turned  the  lady,  not  very  graciously.  "  Come,  we  go 
this  way,"  she  directed,  with  a  motion  toward  the 
right. 


A  Dose  of  Pollyanna 


Obediently  Pollyanna  turned  and  trotted  at  Mrs. 
Carew's  side,  through  the  huge  station ;  but  she  looked 
up  once  or  twice  rather  anxiously  into  the  lady's  un 
smiling  face.  At  last  she  spoke  hesitatingly. 

"  I  expect  maybe  you  thought  —  I'd  be  pretty,"  she 
hazarded,  in  a  troubled  voice. 

"P-pretty?"  repeated  Mrs.  Carew. 

"  Yes  —  with  curls,  you  know,  and  all  that.  And 
of  course  you  did  wonder  how  I  did  look,  just  as  I 
did  you.  Only  I  knew  you'd  be  pretty  and  nice,  on 
account  of  your  sister.  I  had  her  to  go  by,  and  you 
didn't  have  anybody.  And  of  course  I'm  not  pretty, 
on  account  of  the  freckles,  and  it  isn't  nice  when 
you've  been  expecting  a  pretty  little  girl,  to  have  one 
come  like  me ;  and  —  " 

"  Nonsense,  child !  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Carew,  a 
trifle  sharply.  "  Come,  we'll  see  to  your  trunk  now, 
then  we'll  go  home.  I  had  hoped  that  my  sister  would 
come  with  us ;  but  it  seems  she  didn't  see  fit  —  even 
for  this  one  night." 

Pollyanna  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  I  know ;  but  she  couldn't,  probably.  Somebody 
wanted  her,  I  expect.  Somebody  was  always  wanting 
her  at  the  Sanatorium.  It's  a  bother,  of  course,  when 
folks  do  -want  you  all  the  time,  isn't  it? --'cause  you 
can't  have  yourself  when  you  want  yourself,  lots  of 
times.  Still,  you  can  be  kind  of  glad  for  that,  for  it 
is  nice  to  be  wanted,  isn't  it?" 

There  was  no  reply  —  perhaps  because  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  Mrs.  Carew  was  wondering  if  any 
where  in  the  world  there  was  any  one  who  really 


so  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

wanted  her  —  not  that  she  wished  to  be  wanted,  of 
course,  she  told  herself  angrily,  pulling  herself  up 
with  a  jerk,  and  frowning  down  at  the  child  by  her  side. 

Pollyanna  did  not  see  the  frown.  Pollyanna's  eyes 
were  on  the  hurrying  throngs  about  them. 

"  My !  what  a  lot  of  people,"  she  was  saying  hap 
pily.  "  There's  even  more  of  them  than  there  was  the 
other  time  I  was  here;  but  I  haven't  seen  anybody, 
yet,  that  I  saw  then,  though  I've  looked  for  them 
everywhere.  Of  course  the  lady  and  the  little  baby 
lived  in  Honolulu,  so  probably  they  wouldn't  be  here; 
but  there  was  a  little  girl,  Susie  Smith  —  she  lived 
right  here  in  Boston.  Maybe  you  know  her  though. 
Do  you  know  Susie  Smith  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know  Susie  Smith,"  replied  Mrs. 
Carew,  dryly. 

"  Don't  you?  She's  awfully  nice,  and  she's  pretty 
—  black  curls,  you  know ;  the  kind  I'm  going  to  have 
when  I  go  to  Heaven.  But  never  mind ;  maybe  I  can 
find  her  for  you  so  you  will  know  her.  Oh,  my !  what 
a  perfectly  lovely  automobile!  And  are  we  going  to 
ride  in  it?  "  broke  off  Pollyanna,  as  they  came  to  a 
pause  before  a  handsome  limousine,  the  door  of  which 
a  liveried  chauffeur  was  holding  open. 

The  chauffeur  tried  to  hide  a  smile  —  and  failed. 
Mrs.  Carew,  however,  answered  with  the  weariness  of 
one  to  whom  "  rides  "  are  never  anything  but  a  means 
of  locomotion  from  one  tiresome  place  to  another 
probably  quite  as  tiresome. 

"  Yes,  we're  going  to  ride  in  it."  Then  "  Home, 
Perkins,"  she  added  to  the  deferential  chauffeur. 


OH,   MY!     WHAT  A   PERFECTLY   LOVELY  AUTOMOBILE? 


A  Dose  of  Pollyanna  31 

"  Oh,  my,  is  it  yours?  "  asked  Pollyanna,  detecting 
the  unmistakable  air  of  ownership  in  her  hostess's 
manner.  "  How  perfectly  lovely !  Then  you  must  be 
rich  —  awfully  —  I  mean  exceedingly  rich,  more  than 
the  kind  that  just  has  carpets  in  every  room  and  ice 
cream  Sundays,  like  the  Whites  —  one  of  my  Ladies' 
Aiders,  you  know.  (That  is,  she  was  a  Ladies' 
Aider.)  I  used  to  think  they  were  rich,  but  I  know 
now  that  being  really  rich  means  you've  got  diamond 
rings  and  hired  girls  and  sealskin  coats,  and  dresses 
made  of  silk  and  velvet  for  every  day,  and  an  automo 
bile.  Have  you  got  all  those  ?  " 

"  Why,  y-yes,  I  suppose  I  have,"  admitted  Mrs. 
Carew,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Then  you  are  rich,  of  course,"  nodded  Pollyanna, 
wisely.  "  My  Aunt  Polly  has  them,  too,  only  her  au 
tomobile  is  a  horse.  My !  but  don't  I  just  love  to  ride 
in  these  things,"  exulted  Pollyanna,  with  a  happy  little 
bounce.  "  You  see  I  never  did  before,  except  the  one 
that  ran  over  me.  They  put  me  in  that  one  after 
they'd  got  me  out  from  under  it;  but  of  course  I 
didn't  know  about  it,  so  I  couldn't  enjoy  it.  Since 
then  I  haven't  been  in  one  at  all.  Aunt  Polly  doesn't 
like  them.  Uncle  Tom  does,  though,  and  he  wants 
one.  He  says  he's  got  to  have  one,  in  his  business. 
He's  a  doctor,  you  know,  and  all  the  other  doctors  in 
town  have  got  them  now.  I  don't  know  how  it  will 
come  out.  Aunt  Polly  is  all  stirred  up  over  it.  You 
see,  she  wants  Uncle  Tom  to  have  what  he  wants, 
only  she  wants  him  to  want  what  she  wants  him  to 
want.  See?" 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


Mrs.  Carew  laughed  suddenly. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  think  I  see,"  she  answered  de 
murely,  though  her  eyes  still  carried  —  for  them  —  a 
most  unusual  twinkle. 

"  All  right,"  sighed  Pollyanna  contentedly.  "  I 
thought  you  would;  still,  it  did  sound  sort  of  mixed 
when  I  said  it.  Oh,  Aunt  Polly  says  she  wouldn't 
mind  having  an  automobile,  so  much,  if  she  could 
have  the  only  one  there  was  in  the  world,  so  there 
wouldn't  be  any  one  else  to  run  into  her ;  but  —  My ! 
what  a  lot  of  houses !  "  broke  off  Pollyanna,  looking 
about  her  with  round  eyes  of  wonder.  "  Don't  they 
ever  stop  ?  Still,  there'd  have  to  be  a  lot  of  them  for 
all  those  folks  to  live  in,  of  course,  that  I  saw  at  the 
station,  besides  all  these  here  on  the  streets.  And  of 
course  where  there  are  more  folks,  there  are  more  to 
know.  I  love  folks.  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Love  folks! " 

"  Yes,  just  folks,  I  mean.  Anybody  —  everybody." 
>  "  Well,  no,  Pollyanna,  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  replied 
Mrs.  Carew,  coldly,  her  brows  contracted. 

Mrs.  Carew's  eyes  had  lost  their  twinkle.  They 
were  turned  rather  mistrustfully,  indeed,  on  Polly 
anna.  To  herself  Mrs.  Carew  was  saying:  "  Now  for 
preachment  number  one,  I  suppose,  on  my  duty  to 
mix  with  my  fellow-men,  a  la  Sister  Delia !  " 

"Don't  you?  Oh,  I  do,"  sighed  Pollyanna. 
"  They're  all  so  nice  and  so  different,  you  know.  And 
down  here  there  must  be  such  a  lot  of  them  to  be  nice 
and  different.  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  glad  I  am 
so  soon  that  I  came!  I  knew  I  would  be,  anyway, 


A  Dose  of  Pollyanna  S3 

just  as  soon  as  I  found  out  you  were  you  —  that  is, 
Miss  Wetherby's  sister,  I  mean.  I  love  Miss 
Wetherby,  so  I  knew  I  should  you,  too;  for  of  course 
you'd  be  alike  —  sisters,  so  —  even  if  you  weren't  twins 
like  Mrs.  Jones  and  Mrs.  Peck  —  and  they  weren't 
quite  alike,  anyway,  on  account  of  the  wart.  But  I 
reckon  you  don't  know  what  I  mean,  so  I'll  tell  you." 

And  thus  it  happened  that  Mrs.  Carew,  who  had 
been  steeling  herself  for  a  preachment  on  social  ethics, 
found  herself,  much  to  her  surprise  and  a  little  to  her 
discomfiture,  listening  to  the  story  of  a  wart  on  the 
nose  of  one  Mrs.  Peck,  Ladies'  Aider. 

By  the  time  the  story  was  finished  the  limousine  had 
turned  into  Commonwealth  Avenue,  and  Pollyanna 
immediately  began  to  exclaim  at  the  beauty  of  a  street 
which  had  such  a  "  lovely  big  long  yard  all  the  way 
up  and  down  through  the  middle  of  it,"  and  which 
was  all  the  nicer,  she  said,  "  after  all  those  little  nar 
row  streets." 

"  Only  I  should  think  every  one  would  want  to  live 
on  it,"  she  commented  enthusiastically. 

"  Very  likely ;  but  that  would  hardly  be  possible," 
retorted  Mrs.  Carew,  with  uplifted  eyebrows. 

Pollyanna,  mistaking  the  expression  on  her  face  for 
one  of  dissatisfaction  that  her  own  home  was  not  on 
the  beautiful  Avenue,  hastened  to  make  amends. 

"  Why,  no,  of  course  not,"  she  agreed.  "  And  I 
didn't  mean  that  the  narrower  streets  weren't  just  as 
nice,"  she  hurried  on ;  "  and  even  better,  maybe,  be 
cause  you  could  be  glad  you  didn't  have  to  go  so  far 
wiien  you  wanted  to  run  across  the  way  to  borrow 


34  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

eggs  or  soda,  and  —  Oh,  but  do  you  live  here?"  she 
interrupted  herself,  as  the  car  came  to  a  stop  before 
the  imposing  Carew  doorway.  "  Do  you  live  here, 
Mrs.  Carew?" 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  I  live  here,"  returned  the 
lady,  with  just  a  touch  of  irritation. 

"  Oh,  how  glad,  glad  you  must  be  to  live  in  such 
a  perfectly  lovely  place ! "  exulted  the  little  girl, 
springing  to  the  sidewalk  and  looking  eagerly  about 
her.  "Aren't  you  glad?" 

Mrs.  Carew  did  not  reply.  With  unsmiling  lips  and 
frowning  brow  she  was  stepping  from  the  limousine. 

For  the  second  time  in  five  minutes,  Pollyanna 
hastened  to  make  amends. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  mean  the  kind  of  glad  that's 
sinfully  proud,"  she  explained,  searching  Mrs.  Carew's 
face  with  anxious  eyes.  "  Maybe  you  thought  I  did, 
same  as  Aunt  Polly  used  to,  sometimes.  I  don't  mean 
the  kind  that's  glad  because  you've  got  something 
somebody  else  can't  have;  but  the  kind  that  just  — 
just  makes  you  want  to  shout  and  yell  and  bang  doors, 
you  know,  even  if  it  isn't  proper,"  she  finished,  dan 
cing  up  and  down  on  her  toes. 

The  chauffeur  turned  his  back  precipitately,  and 
busied  himself  with  the  car.  Mrs.  Carew,  (Still  with 
unsmiling  lips  and  frowning  brow  led  the  way  up  the 
broad  stone  steps. 

"  Come,  Pollyanna,"  was  all  she  said,  crisply. 

It  was  five  days  later  that  Delia  Wetherby  received 
the  letter  from  her  sister,  and  very  eagerly  she  tore 


A  Dose  of  Pollyanna  35 

it  open.  It  was  the  first  that  had  come  since  Polly- 
anna's  arrival  in  Boston. 

"  My  dear  Sister,"  Mrs.  Carew  had  written.  "  For 
pity's  sake,  Delia,  why  didn't  you  give  me  some  sort 
of  an  idea  what  to  expect  from  this  child  you  have 
insisted  upon  my  taking?  I'm  nearly  wild  —  and  I 
simply  can't  send  her  away.  I've  tried  to  three  times, 
but  every  time,  before  I  get  the  words  out  of  my 
mouth,  she  stops  them  by  telling  me  what  a  perfectly 
lovely  time  she  is  having,  and  how  glad  she  is  to  be 
here,  and  how  good  I  am  to  let  her  live  with  me  while 
her  Aunt  Polly  has  gone  to  Germany.  Now  how, 
pray,  in  the  face  of  that,  can  I  turn  around  and  say 
*  Well,  won't  you  please  go  home ;  I  don't  want  you  '  ? 
And  the  absurd  part  of  it  is,  I  don't  believe  it  has  ever 
entered  her  head  that  I  don't  want  her  here;  and  I 
can't  seem  to  make  it  enter  her  head,  either. 

"Of  course  if  she  begins  to  preach,  and  to  tell  me 
to  count  my  blessings,  I  shall  send  her  away.  You 
know  I  told  you,  to  begin  with,  that  I  wouldn't  permit 
that.  And  I  won't.  Two  or  three  times  I  have 
thought  she  was  going  to  (preach,  I  mean),  but  so 
far  she  has  always  ended  up  with  some  ridiculous 
story  about  those  Ladies'  Aiders  of  hers;  so  the  serr 
mon  gets  sidetracked  —  luckily  for  her,  if  she  wants 
to  stay. 

"  But,  really,  Delia,  she  is  impossible.  Listen.  In 
the  first  place  she  is  wild  with  delight  over  the  house. 
The  very  first  day  she  got  here  she  begged  me  to  open 
every  room;  and  she  was  not  satisfied  until  every 
shade  in  the  house  was  up,  so  that  she  might  *  see  all 


36  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

the  perfectly  lovely  things/  which,  she  declared,  were 
even  nicer  than  Mr.  John  Pendleton's  —  whoever  he 
may  be,  somebody  in  Beldingsville,  I  believe.  Any 
how  he  isn't  a  Ladies'  Aider.  I've  found  out  that  much. 

"  Then,  as  if  it  wasn't  enough  to  keep  me  running 
from  room  to  room  (as  if  I  were  the  guide  on  a 
'personally  conducted'),  what  did  she  do  but  dis 
cover  a  white  satin  evening  gown  that  I  hadn't  worn 
for  years,  and  beseech  me  to  put  it  on.  And  I  did 
put  it  on  —  why,  I  can't  imagine,  only  that  I  found 
myself  utterly  helpless  in  her  hands. 

"  But  that  was  only  the  beginning.  She  begged 
then  to  see  everything  that  I  had,  and  she  was  so  per 
fectly  funny  in  her  stories  of  the  missionary  barrels, 
which  she  used  to  '  dress  out  of,'  that  I  had  to  laugh 
—  though  I  almost  cried,  too,  to  think  of  the  wretched 
things  that  poor  child  had  to  wear.  Of  course  gowns 
led  to  jewels,  and  she  made  such  a  fuss  over  my  two 
or  three  rings  that  I  foolishly  opened  the  safe,  just 
to  see  her  eyes  pop  out.  And,  Delia,  I  thought  that 
child  would  go  crazy.  She  put  on  to  me  every  ring, 
brooch,  bracelet,  and  necklace  that  I  owned,  and  in 
sisted  on  fastening  both  diamond  tiaras  in  my  hair 
(when  she  found  out  what  they  were),  until  there  I 
sat,  hung  with  pearls  and  diamonds  and  emeralds,  and 
feeling  like  a  heathen  goddess  in  a  Hindu  temple, 
especially  when  that  preposterous  child  began  to  dance 
round  and  round  me,  clapping  her  hands  and  chant 
ing,  '  Oh,  how  perfectly  lovely,  how  perfectly  lovely ! 
How  I  would  love  to  hang  you  on  a  string  in  the 
window  —  you'd  make  such  a  beautiful  prism!* 


A  Dose  of  Pollyanna  37 

"  I  was  just  going  to  ask  her  what  on  earth  she 
meant  by  that  when  down  she  dropped  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor  and  began  to  cry.  And  what  do  you  sup 
pose  she  was  crying  for?  Because  she  was  so  glad 
she'd  got  eyes  that  could  seel  Now  what  do  you 
think  of  that? 

"  Of  course  this  isn't  all.  It's  only  the  beginning. 
Pollyanna  has  been  here  four  days,  and  she's  rilled 
every  one  of  them  full.  She  already  numbers  among 
her  friends  the  ash-man,  the  policeman  on  the  beat, 
and  the  paper  boy,  to  say  nothing  of  every  servant 
in  my  employ.  They  seem  actually  bewitched  with 
her,  every  one  of  them.  But  please  do  not  think 
/  am,  for  I'm  not.  I  would  send  the  child  back  to 
you  at  once  if  I  didn't  feel  obliged  to  fulfil  my  promise 
to  keep  her  this  winter.  As  for  her  making  me  forget 
Jamie  and  my  great  sorrow  —  that  is  impossible.  She 
only  makes  me  feel  my  loss  all  the  more  keenly  — 
because  I  have  her  instead  of  him.  But,  as  I  said,  I 
shall  keep  her  —  until  she  begins  to  preach.  Then 
back  she  goes  to  you.  But  she  hasn't  preached  yet. 
"  Lovingly  but  distractedly  yours, 

"  RUTH." 

" '  Hasn't  preached  yet/  indeed !  "  chuckled  Delia 
Wetherby  to  herself,  folding  up  the  closely- written 
sheets  of  her  sister's  letter.  "  Oh,  Ruth,  Ruth !  and 
yet  you  admit  that  you've  opened  every  room,  raised 
every  shade,  decked  yourself  in  satin  and  jewels  — 
and  Pollyanna  hasn't  been  there  a  week  yet.  But  she 
hasn't  preached  —  oh,  no,  she  hasn't  preached !  " 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE   GAME  AND    MRS.    CAREW 

BOSTON,  to  Pollyanna,  was  a  new  experience,  and 
certainly  Pollyanna,  to  Boston  —  such  part  of  it  as 
was  privileged  to  know  her  —  was  very  much  of  a 
new  experience. 

Pollyanna  said  she  liked  Boston,  but  that  she  did 
wish  it  was  not  quite  so  big. 

"  You  see,"  she  explained  earnestly  to  Mrs.  Carew, 
the  day  following  her  arrival,  "  I  want  to  see  and 
know  it  all,  and  I  can't.  It's  just  like  Aunt  Polly's 
company  dinners;  there's  so  much  to  eat  —  I  mean, 
to  see  —  that  you  don't  eat  —  I  mean,  see  —  any 
thing,  because  you're  always  trying  to  decide  what  to 
eat  —  I  mean,  to  see. 

"Of  course  you  can  be  glad  there  is  such  a  lot,"  re 
sumed  Pollyanna,  after  taking  breath,  "  'cause  a  whole 
lot  of  anything  is  nice  —  that  is,  good  things;  not 
such  things  as  medicine  and  funerals,  of  course !  — 
but  at  the  same  time  I  couldn't  used  to  help  wishing 
Aunt  Polly's  company  dinners  could  be  spread  out  a 
little  over  the  days  when  there  wasn't  any  cake  and 
pie;  and  I  feel  the  same  way  about  Boston.  I  wish 
I  could  take  part  of  it  home  with  me  up  to  Beldings- 
rille  so  I'd  have  something  new  next  summer.  But 
of  course  I  can't.  Cities  aren't  like  frosted  cake  — 

38 


The  Game  and  Mrs.  Carew 


and,  anyhow,  even  the  cake  didn't  keep  very  well.  I 
tried  it,  and  it  dried  up,  'specially  the  frosting.  I 
reckon  the  time  to  take  frosting  and  good  times  is 
while  they  are  going;  so  I  want  to  see  all  I  can  now 
while  I'm  here." 

Pollyanna,  unlike  the  people  who  think  that  to  see 
the  world  one  must  begin  at  the  most  distant  point, 
began  her  "  seeing  Botston  "  by  a  thorough  explora 
tion  of  her  immediate  surroundings — the  beautiful 
Commonwealth  Avenue  residence  which  was  now  her 
home.  This,  with  her  school  work,  fully  occupied  her 
time  and  attention  for  some  days. 

There  was  so  much  to  see,  and  so  much  to  learn; 
and  everything  was  so  marvelous  and  so  beautiful, 
from  the  tiny  buttons  in  the  wall  that  flooded  the 
rooms  with  light,  to  the  great  silent  ballroom  hung 
with  mirrors  and  pictures.  There  were  so  many  de 
lightful  people  to  know,  too,  for  besides  Mrs.  Carew 
herself  there  were  Mary,  who  dusted  the  drawing- 
rooms,  answered  the  bell,  and  accompanied  Pollyanna 
to  and  from  school  each  day;  Bridget,  who  lived  in 
the  kitchen  and  cooked;  Jennie,  who  waited  at  table, 
and  Perkins  who  drove  the  automobile.  And  they 
were  all  so  delightful  —  yet  so  different! 

Pollyanna  had  arrived  on  a  Monday,  so  it  was  al 
most  a  week  before  the  first  Sunday.  She  came  down 
stairs  that  morning  with  a  beaming  countenance. 

"  I  love  Sundays,"  she  sighed  happily, 

"  Do  you?  "  Mns.  Carew's  voice  had  the  weariness 
of  one  who  loves  no  day. 

"  Yes,  on  account  of  church,  you  know,  and  Sunday 


40  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

school.  Which  do  you  like  best,  church,  or  Sunday 
school?" 

"  Well,  really,  I  —  "  began  Mrs.  Carew,  who  sel 
dom  went  to  church  and  never  went  to  Sunday  school. 

"  Tis  hard  to  tell,  isn't  it  ?  "  interposed  Pollyanna, 
with  luminous  but  serious  eyes.  "  But  you  see  /  like 
church  best,  on  account  of  father.  You  know  he  was 
a  minister,  and  of  course  he's  really  up  in  Heaven 
with  mother  and  the  rest  of  us,  but  I  try  to  imagine 
him  down  here,  lots  of  times;  and  it's  easiest  in 
church,  when  the  minister  is  talking.  I  shut  my  eyes 
and  imagine  it's  father  up  there;  and  it  helps  lots. 
I'm  so  glad  we  can  imagine  things,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  Pollyanna." 

"  Oh,  but  just  think  how  much  nicer  our  imagined 
things  are  than  our  really  truly  ones  —  that  is,  of 
course,  yours  aren't,  because  your  real  ones  are  so 
nice."  Mrs.  Carew  angrily  started  to  speak,  but  Pol 
lyanna  was  hurrying  on.  "  And  of  course  my  real 
ones  are  ever  so  much  nicer  than  they  used  to  be.  But 
all  that  time  I  was  hurt,  when  my  legs  didn't  go,  I 
just  had  to  keep  imagining  all  the  time,  just  as  hard 
as  I  could.  And  of  course  now  there  are  lots  of  times 
when  I  do  it  —  like  about  father,  and  all  that.  And 
so  to-day  I'm  just  going  to  imagine  it's  father  up  there 
in  the  pulpit.  What  time  do  we  go  ?  " 

"Got" 

"  To  church,  I  mean." 

"But,  Pollyanna,  I  don't  — that  is,  I'd  rather 
not  — "  Mrs.  Carew  cleared  her  throat  and  tried 
again  to  say  that  she  was  not  going  to  church  at  all; 


The  Game  and  Mrs.  Carew  41 

that  she  almost  never  went.  But  with  Pollyanna's 
confident  little  face  and  happy  eyes  before  her,  she 
could  not  do  it. 

"  Why,  I  suppose  —  about  quarter  past  ten  —  if  we 
walk,"  she  said  then,  almost  crossly.  "  It's  only  a 
little  way." 

Thus  it  happened  that  Mrs.  Carew  on  that  bright 
September  morning  occupied  for  the  first  time  in 
months  the  Carew  pew  in  the  very  fashionable  and 
elegant  church  to  which  she  had  gone  as  a  girl,  and 
which  she  still  supported  liberally  —  so  far  as  money 
went. 

To  Pollyanna  that  Sunday  morning  service  was  a 
great  wonder  and  joy.  The  marvelous  music  of  the 
vested  choir,  the  opalescent  rays  from  the  jeweled 
windows,  the  impassioned  voice  of  the  preacher,  and 
the  reverent  hush  of  the  worshiping  throng  filled  her 
with  an  ecstasy  that  left  her  for  a  time  almost  speech 
less.  Not  until  they  were  nearly  home  did  she  fer 
vently  breathe: 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Carew,  I've  just  been  thinking  how  glad 
I  am  we  don't  have  to  live  but  just  one  day  at  a  time!  " 

Mrs.  Carew  frowned  and  looked  down  sharply. 
Mrs.  Carew  was  in  no  mood  for  preaching.  She  had 
just  been  obliged  to  endure  it  from  the  pulpit,  she  told 
herself  angrily,  and  she  would  not  listen  to  it  from 
this  chit  of  a  child.  Moreover,  this  "  living  one  day 
at  a  time  "  theory  was  a  particularly  pet  doctrine  of 
Delia's.  Was  not  Delia  always  saying :  "  But  you 
only  have  to  live  one  minute  at  a  time,  Ruth,  and  any 
one  can  endure  anything  for  one  minute  at  a  time !  " 


42  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Well?  "  said  Mrs.  Carew  now,  tersely. 

"  Yes.  Only  think  what  I'd  do  if  I  had  to  live  yes 
terday  and  to-day  and  to-morrow  all  at  once,"  sighed 
Pollyanna.  "  Such  a  lot  of  perfectly  lovely  things, 
you  know.  But  I've  had  yesterday,  and  now  I'm 
living  to-day,  and  I've  got  to-morrow  still  coming, 
and  next  Sunday,  too.  Honestly,  Mrs.  Carew,  if  it 
wasn't  Sunday  now,  and  on  this  nice  quiet  street, 
I  should  just  dance  and  shout  and  yell.  I  couldn't 
help  it.  But  it's  being  Sunday,  so,  I  shall  have  to 
wait  till  I  get  home  and  then  take  a  hymn  —  the  most 
rejoicingest  hymn  I  can  think  of.  What  is  the  most 
rejoicingest  hymn?  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Carew?" 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  answered  Mrs.  Carew, 
faintly,  looking  very  much  as  if  she  were  searching 
for  something  she  had  lost.  For  a  woman  who  ex 
pects,  because  things  are  so  bad,  to  be  told  that  she 
need  stand  only  one  day  at  a  time,  it  is  disarming,  to 
say  the  least,  to  be  told  that,  because  things  are  so 
good,  it  is  lucky  she  does  not  have  to  stand  but  one 
day  at  a  time! 

On  Monday,  the  next  morning,  Pollyanna  went  to 
school  for  the  first  time  alone.  She  knew  the  way  per 
fectly  now,  and  it  was  only  a  short  walk.  Pollyanna 
enjoyed  her  school  very  much.  It  was  a  small  private 
school  for  girls,  and  was  quite  a  new  experience, 
in  its  way;  but  Pollyanna  liked  new  experiences. 

Mrs.  Carew,.  however,  did  not  like  new  experiences, 
and  she  was  having  a  good  many  of  them  these  days. 
For  one  who  is  tired  of  everything  to  be  in  so  intimate 
a  companionship  with  one  to  whom  everything  is  a 


The  Game  and  Mrs.  Carew  43 

fresh  and  fascinating  joy  must  needs  result  in  annoy 
ance,  to  say  the  least.  And  Mrs.  Carew  was  more  than 
annoyed.  She  was  exasperated.  Yet  to  herself  she 
was  forced  to  admit  that  if  any  one  asked  her  why  she 
was  exasperated,  the  only  reason  she  could  give  would 
be  "  Because  Pollyanna  is  so  glad  "  —  and  even  Mrs. 
Carew  would  hardly  like  to  give  an  answer  like  that. 

To  Delia,  however,  Mrs.  Carew  did  write  that  the 
word  "  glad  "  had  got  on  her  nerves,  and  that  some 
times  she  wished  she  might  never  hear  it  again.  She 
still  admitted  that  Pollyanna  had  not  preached  —  that 
she  had  not  even  once  tried  to  make  her  play  the  game. 
What  the  child  did  do,  however,  was  invariably  to 
take  Mrs.  Carew's  "  gladness  "  as  a  matter  of  course, 
which,  to  one  who  had  no  gladness,  was  most  pro 
voking. 

It  was  during  the  second  week  of  Pollyanna's  stay 
that  Mrs.  Carew's  annoyance  overflowed  into  irritable 
remonstrance.  The  immediate  cause  thereof  was 
Pollyanna's  glowing  conclusion  to  a  story  about  one  of 
her  Ladies'  Aiders. 

"  She  was  playing  the  game,  Mrs.  Carew.  But 
maybe  you  don't  know  what  the  game  is.  I'll  tell  you. 
It's  a  lovely  game." 

But  Mrs.  Carew  held  up  her  hand. 

"  Never  mind,  Pollyanna,"  she  demurred.  "  I  know 
all  about  the  game.  My  sister  told  me,  and  —  and  I 
must  say  that  I  —  I  should  not  care  for  it." 

"  Why,  of  course  not,  Mrs.  Carew ! "  exclaimed 
Pollyanna  in  quick  apology.  "  I  didn't  mean  the  game 
for  you.  You  couldn't  play  it,  of  course." 


44  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  I  couldn't  play  it!  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Carew,  who, 
though  she  would  not  play  this  silly  game,  was  in  no 
mood  to  be  told  that  she  could  not. 

"  Why,  no,  don't  you  see?"  laughed  Pollyanna, 
gleefully.  '  The  game  is  to  find  something  in  every 
thing  to  be  glad  about;  and  you  couldn't  even  begin 
to  hunt,  for  there  isn't  anything  about  you  but  what 
you  could  be  glad  about.  There  wouldn't  be  any  game 
to  it  for  you!  Don't  you  see?" 

Mrs.  Carew  flushed  angrily.  In  her  annoyance  she 
said  more  than  perhaps  she  meant  to  say. 

"  Well,  no,  Pollyanna,  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  she 
differed  coldly.  "  As  it  happens,  you  see,  I  can  find 
nothing  whatever  to  be  —  glad  for." 

For  a  moment  Pollyanna  stared  blankly.  Then  she 
fell  back  in  amazement. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Carew  f"  she  breathed. 

"Well,  what  is  there — for  me?"  challenged  the 
woman,  forgetting  all  about,  for  the  moment,  that  she 
was  never  going  to  allow  Pollyanna  to  "  preach." 

"  Why,  there's  —  there's  everything,"  murmured 
Pollyanna,  still  with  that  dazed  unbelief.  "  There  — 
there's  this  beautiful  house." 

"  It's  just  a  place  to  eat  and  sleep  —  and  I  don't 
want  to  eat  and  sleep." 

"  But  there  are  all  these  perfectly  lovely  things," 
faltered  Pollyanna. 

"  I'm  tired  of  them." 

"  And  your  automobile  that  will  take  you  any 
where." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  anywhere." 


The  Game  and  Mrs.  Carew  45 

PoMyanna  quite  gasped  aloud. 

"  But  think  of  the  people  and  things  you  could  see, 
Mrs.  Carew." 

"  They  would  not  interest  me,  Polly  anna." 

Once  again  Pollyanna  stared  in  amazement.  The 
troubled  frown  on  her  face  deepened. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Carew,  I  don't  see,"  she  urged.  "  Al 
ways,  before,  there  have  been  bad  things  for  folks  to 
play  the  game  on,  and  the  badder  they  are  the  more 
fun  'tis  to  get  them  out  —  find  the  things  to  be  glad 
for,  I  mean.  But  where  there  aren't  any  bad  things, 
I  shouldn't  know  how  to  play  the  game  myself." 

There  was  no  answer  for  a  time.  Mrs.  Carew  sat 
with  her  eyes  out  the  window.  Gradually  the  angry 
rebellion  on  her  face  changed  to  a  look  of  hopeless 
sadness.  Very  slowly  then  she  turned  and  said : 

"  Pollyanna,  I  had  thought  I  wouldn't  tell  you  this ; 
but  I've  decided  that  I  will.  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
why  nothing  that  I  have  can  make  me  —  glad."  And 
she  began  the  story  of  Jamie,  the  little  four-year-old 
boy  who,  eight  long  years  before,  had  stepped  as  into 
another  world,  leaving  the  door  fast  shut  between. 

"And  you've  never  seen  him  since  —  anywhere?" 
faltered  Pollyanna,  with  tear-wet  eyes,  when  the  story 
was  done. 

"  Never." 

"  But  we'll  find  him,  Mrs.  Carew  —  I'm  sure  we'll 
find  him." 

Mrs.  Carew  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  But  I  can't.  I've  looked  everywhere,  even  in 
foreign  lands." 


46  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  But  he  must  be  somewhere." 

"  He  may  be  —  dead,  Pollyanna." 

Pollyanna  gave  a  quick  cry. 

"  Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Carew.  Please  don't  say  that !  Let's 
imagine  he's  alive.  We  can  do  that,  and  that'll  help; 
and  when  we  get  him  imagined  alive  we  can  just  as 
well  imagine  we're  going  to  find  him.  And  that'll 
help  a  whole  lot  more." 

"  But  I'm  afraid  he's  —  dead,  Pollyanna,"  choked 
Mrs.  Carew. 

"  You  don't  know  it  for  sure,  do  you?  "  besought 
the  little  girl,  anxiously. 

"  N-no." 

"  Well,  then,  you're  just  imagining  it,"  maintained 
Pollyanna,  in  triumph.  "  And  if  you  can  imagine  him 
dead,  you  can  just  as  well  imagine  him  alive,  and  it'll 
be  a  whole  lot  nicer  while  you're  doing  it.  Don't  you 
see?  And  some  day,  I'm  just  sure  you'll  find  him. 
Why,  Mrs.  Carew,  you  can  play  the  game  now !  You 
can  play  it  on  Jamie.  You  can  be  glad  every  day,  for 
every  day  brings  you  just  one  day  nearer  to  the  time 
when  you're  going  to  find  him.  See?  " 

But  Mrs.  Carew  did  not  "  see."  She  rose  drearily 
to  her  feet  and  said : 

"  No,  no,  child !  You  don't  understand  —  you 
don't  understand.  Now  run  away,  please,  and  read, 
or  do  anything  you  like.  My  head  aches.  I'm  going 
to  lie  down." 

And  Pollyanna,  with  a  troubled,  sober  face,  slowly 
left  the  room. 


CHAPTER    V 

POLLYANNA    TAKES   A   WALK 

IT  was  on  the  second  Saturday  afternoon  that 
Pollyanna  took  her  memorable  walk.  Heretofore 
Pollyanna  had  not  walked  out  alone,  except  to  go  to 
and  from  school.  That  she  would  ever  attempt  to 
explore  Boston  streets  by  herself,  never  occurred  to 
Mrs.  Carew,  hence  she  naturally  had  never  forbidden 
it.  In  Beldingsville,  however,  Pollyanna  had  found  — 
especially  at  the  first  —  her  chief  diversion  in  strolling 
about  the  rambling  old  village  streets  in  search  of  new 
friends  and  new  adventures. 

On  this  particular  Saturday  afternoon  Mrs.  Carew 
had  said,  as  she  often  did  say :  "  There,  there,  child, 
run  away ;  please  do.  Go  where  you  like  and  do  what 
you  like,  only  don't,  please,  ask  me  any  more  questions 
to-day!" 

Until  now,  left  to  herself,  Pollyanna  had  always 
found  plenty  to  interest  her  within  the  four  walls  of 
the  house;  for,  if  inanimate  things  failed,  there  were 
yet  Mary,  Jennie,  Bridget,  and  Perkins.  To-day,  how 
ever,  Mary  had  a  headache,  Jennie  was  trimming  a 
new  hat,  Bridget  was  making  apple  pies,  and  Perkins 
was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Moreover  it  was  a  particu 
larly  beautiful  September  day,  and  nothing  within  the 

47 


48  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

house  was  so  alluring  as  the  bright  sunlight  and  balmy 
air  outside.  So  outside  Pollyanna  went  and  dropped 
herself  down  on  the  steps. 

For  some  time  she  watched  in  silence  the  well- 
dressed  men,  women,  and  children,  who  walked  briskly 
by  the  house,  or  else  sauntered  more  leisurely  through 
the  parkway  that  extended  up  and  down  the  middle  of 
the  Avenue.  Then  she  got  to  her  feet,  skipped  down 
the  steps,  and  stood  looking,  first  to  the  right,  then  to 
the  left. 

Pollyanna  had  decided  that  she,  too,  would  take  a 
walk.  It  was  a  beautiful  day  for  a  walk,  and  not 
once,  yet,  had  she  taken  one  at  aid  —  not  a  real  walk. 
Just  going  to  and  from  school  did  not  count.  So  she 
would  take  one  to-day.  Mrs.  Carew  would  not  mind. 
Had  she  not  told  her  to  do  just  what  she  pleased  so 
long  as  she  asked  no  more  questions  ?  And  there  was 
the  whole  long  afternoon  before  her.  Only  think  what 
a  lot  one  might  see  in  a  whole  long  afternoon !  And  it 
really  was  such  a  beautiful  day.  She  would  go  —  this 
way!  And  with  a  little  whirl  and  skip  of  pure  joy, 
Pollyanna  turned  and  walked  blithely  dowrn  the 
Avenue. 

Into  the  eyes  of  those  she  met  Pollyanna  smiled 
joyously.  She  was  disappointed  —  but  not  surprised 
—  that  she  received  no  answering  smile  in  return. 
She  was  used  to  that  now  —  in  Boston.  She  still 
smiled,  however,  hopefully :  there  might  be  some  one, 
sometime,  who  would  smile  back. 

Mrs.  Carew's  home  was  very  near  the  beginning  of 
Commonwealth  Avenue,  so  it  was  not  long  before 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  49 

Polly  anna  found  herself  at  the  edge  of  a  street  cross 
ing  her  way  at  right  angles.  Across  the  street,  in  all 
its  autumn  glory,  lay  what  to  Pollyanna  was  the  most 
beautiful  "  yard  "  she  had  ever  seen  —  the  Boston 
Public  Garden. 

For  a  moment  Pollyanna  hesitated,  her  eyes  long 
ingly  fixed  on  the  wealth  of  beauty  before  her.  That 
it  was  the  private  grounds  of  some  rich  man  or 
woman,  she  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt.  Once,  with 
Dr.  Ames  at  the  Sanatorium,  she  had  been  taken  to 
call  on  a  lady  who  lived  in  a  beautiful  house  sur 
rounded  by  just  such  walks  and  trees  and  flower-beds 
as  these. 

Pollyanna  wanted  now  very  much  to  cross  the  street 
and  walk  in  those  grounds,  but  she  doubted  if  she  had 
the  right.  To  be  sure,  others  were  there,  moving 
about,  she  could  see ;  but  they  might  be  invited  guests, 
of  course.  After  she  had  seen  two  women,  one  man, 
and  a  little  girl  unhesitatingly  enter  the  gate  and  walk 
briskly  down  the  path,  however,  Pollyanna  concluded 
that  she,  too,  might  go.  Watching  her  chance  she 
skipped  nimbly  across  the  street  and  entered  the  Gar 
den. 

It  was  even  more  beautiful  close  at  hand  than  it  had 
been  at  a  distance.  Birds  twittered  over  her  head, 
and  a  squirrel  leaped  across  the  path  ahead  of  her.  On 
benches  here  and  there  sat  men,  women,  and  children. 
Through  the  trees  flashed  the  sparkle  of  the  sun  on 
water;  and  from  somewhere  came  the  shouts  of  chil 
dren  and  the  sound  of  music. 

Once  again  Pollyanna  hesitated;   then,  a  little  tim- 


50  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

idly,  she  accosted  a  handsomely-dressed  young  woman 
ooming  toward  her. 

"  Please,  Is  this  —  a  party?"  she  asked. 

The  young-  woman  stared. 

"  A  party !  "  she  repeated  dazedly. 

"  Yes'm.  I  mean,  is  it  all  right  for  me  —  to  be 
here?" 

"  For  you  to  be  here?  Why,  of  course.  It's  for  — 
for  everybody ! "  exclaimed  the  young  woman. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  then.  I'm  glad  I  came," 
beamed  Pollyanna. 

The  young  woman  said  nothing;  but  she  turned 
back  and  looked  at  Pollyanna  still  dazedly  as  she  hur 
ried  away. 

Pollyanna,  not  at  all  surprised  that  the  owner  of 
this  beautiful  place  should  be  so  generous  as  to  give  a 
party  to  everybody,  continued  on  her  way.  At  the 
turn  of  the  path  she  came  upon  a  small  girl  and  a  doll 
carriage.  She  stopped  with  a  glad  little  cry,  but  she 
had  not  said  a  dozen  words  before  from  somewhere 
came  a  young  woman  with  hurrying  steps  and  a  dis 
approving  voice;  a  young  woman  who  held  out  her 
hand  to  the  small  girl,  and  said  sharply: 

"  Here,  Gladys,  Gladys,  come  away  with  me. 
Hasn't  mama  told  you  not  to  talk  to  strange  chil 
dren?" 

"  But  I'm  not  strange  children,"  explained  Polly 
anna  in  eager  defense.  "  I  live  right  here  in  Boston, 
now,  and-  But  the  young  woman  and  the  little 
girl  dragging  the  doll  carriage  were  already  far  down 
the  path;  and  with  a  half-stifled  sigh  Pollyanna  fell 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  51 

back.  For  a  moment  she  stood  silent,  plainly  disap 
pointed;  then  resolutely  she  lifted  her  chin  and  went 
forward. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  I  can  be  glad  for  that/'  she  nodded 
to  herself,  "  for  now  maybe  I'll  find  somebody  even 
nicer  —  Susie  Smith,  perhaps,  or  even  Mrs.  Carew's 
Jamie.  Anyhow,  I  can  imagine  I'm  going  to  find 
them;  and  if  I  don't  find  them,  I  can  find  somebody!  " 
she  finished,  her  wistful  eyes  on  the  self-absorbed 
people  all  about  her. 

Undeniably  Pollyanna  was  lonesome.  Brought  up 
by  her  father  and  the  Ladies'  Aid  Society  in  a  small 
iWestern  town,  she  had  counted  every  house  in  the 
village  her  home,  and  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
her  friend.  Coming  to  her  aunt  in  Vermont  at  eleven 
years  of  age,  she  had  promptly  assumed  that  condi 
tions  would  differ  only  in  that  the  homes  and  the 
friends  would  be  new,  and  therefore  even  more  de 
lightful,  possibly,  for  they  would  be  "  different  "  — 
and  Pollyanna  did  so  love  "  different "  things  and 
people!  Her  first  and  always  her  supreme  delight  in 
Beldingsville,  therefore,  had  been  her  long  rambles 
about  the  town  and  the  charming  visits  with  the  new 
friends  she  had  made.  -Quite  naturally,  in  conse 
quence,  Boston,  as  she  first  saw  it,  seemed  to  Polly 
anna  even  more  delightfully  promising  in  its  possibili 
ties. 

Thus  far,  however,  Pollyanna  had  to  admit  that  in 
one  respect,  at  least,  it  had  been  disappointing:  she 
had  been  here  nearly  two  weeks  and  she  did  not  yet 
know  the  people  who  lived  across  the  street,  or  even 


52  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

next  door.  More  inexplicable  still,  Mrs.  Carew  her 
self  did  not  know  many  of  them,  and  not  any  of 
them  well.  She  seemed,  indeed,  utterly  indifferent  to 
her  neighbors,  which  'was  most  amazing  from  Polly- 
anna's  point  of  view;  but  nothing  she  could  say  ap 
peared  to  change  Mrs.  Carew's  attitude  in  the  matter 
at  all. 

"  They  do  not  interest  me,  Pollyanna,"  was  all  she 
would  say ;  and  with  this,  Pollyanna  —  whom  they 
did  interest  very  much  —  was  forced  to  be  content. 

To-day,  on  her  walk,  however,  Pollyanna  had 
started  out  with  high  hopes,  yet  thus  far  she  seemed 
destined  to  be  disappointed.  Here  all  about  her  were 
people  who  were  doubtless  most  delightful  —  if  she 
only  knew  them.  But  she  did  not  know  them.  Worse 
yet,  there  seemed  to  be  no  prospect  that  she  would 
know  them,  for  they  did  not,  apparently,  wish  to  know 
her:  Pollyanna  was  still  smarting  under  the  nurse's 
sharp  warning  concerning  "  strange  children." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  just  have  to  show  'em  that  I'm 
not  strange  children,"  she  said  at  last  to  herself, 
moving  confidently  forward  again. 

Pursuant  of  this  idea  Pollyanna  smiled  sweetly  into 
the  eyes  of  the  next  person  she  met,  and  said  blithely : 

"It's  a  nice  day,  isn't  it?" 

"  Er  —  what  ?  Oh,  y-yes,  it  is,"  murmured  the  lady 
addressed,  as  she  hastened  on  a  little  faster. 

Twice  again  Pollyanna  tried  the  same  experiment, 
but  with  like  disappointing  results.  Soon  she  came 
upon  the  little  pond  that  she  had  seen  sparkling  in  the 
sunlight  through  the  trees.  It  was  a  beautiful  pond, 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  53 

and  on  it  were  several  pretty  little  boats  full  of  laugh 
ing  children.  As  she  watched  them,  Pollyanna  felt 
more  and  more  dissatisfied  to  remain  by  herself.  It 
was  then  that,  spying-  a  man  sitting  alone  not  far 
away,  she  advanced  slowly  toward  him  and  sat  down 
on  the  other  end  of  the  bench.  Once  Pollyanna  would 
have  danced  unhesitatingly  to  the  man's  side  and 
suggested  acquaintanceship  with  a  cheery  confidence 
that  had  no  doubt  of  a  welcome;  but  recent  rebuffs 
had  filled  her  with  unaccustomed  diffidence.  Covertly 
she  looked  at  the  man  now. 

'He  was  not  very  good  to  look  at.  His  garments, 
though  new,  were  dusty,  and  plainly  showed  lack  of 
care.  They  were  of  the  cut  and  style  (though  Polly- 
anna  of  course  did  not  know  this)  that  the  State  gives 
its  prisoners  as  a  freedom  suit.  His  face  was  a  pasty 
white,  and  was  adorned  with  a  week's  beard.  His 
hat  was  pulled  far  down  over  his  eyes.  With  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  he  sat  idly  staring  at  the  ground. 

For  a  long  minute  Pollyanna  said  nothing;  then 
hopefully  she  began : 

"It  w  a  nice  day,  isn't  it?" 

The  man  turned  his  head  with  a  start. 

"Eh?  Oh  —  er  —  what  did  you  say?"  he  ques 
tioned,  -with  a  curiously  frightened  look  around  to 
make  sure  the  remark  was  addressed  to  him. 

"  I  said  'twas  a  nice  day,"  explained  Pollyanna  in 
hurried  earnestness ;  "  but  I  don't  care  about  that 
especially.  That  is,  of  course  I'm  glad  it's  a  nice  day, 
but  I  said  it  just  as  a  beginning  to  things,  and  I'd 
just  as  soon  talk  about  something  else  —  anything 


54  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

else.  It's  only  that  I  wanted  you  to  talk  —  about 
something,  you  see." 

The  man  gave  a  low  laugh.  Even  to  Pollyanna  the 
laugh  sounded  a  little  queer,  though  she  did  not  know 
(as  did  the  man)  that  a  laugh  to  his  lips  had  been  a 
stranger  for  many  months. 

"  So  you  want  me  to  talk,  do  you?  "  he  said  a  little 
sadly.  "  Well,  I  don't  see  but  what  I  shall  have  to  do 
it,  then.  Still,  I  should  think  a  nice  little  lady  like  you 
might  find  lots  nicer  people  to  talk  to  than  an  old 
duffer  like  me." 

"  Oh,  but  I  like  old  duffers,"  exclaimed  Pollyanna 
quickly ;  "  that  is,  I  like  the  old  part,  and  I  don't  know 
what  a  duffer  is,  so  I  can't  dislike  that.  Besides,  if 
you  are  a  duffer,  I  reckon  I  like  duffers.  Anyhow,  I 
like  you,"  she  finished,  with  a  contented  little  settling 
of  herself  in  her  seat  that  carried  conviction. 

"  Humph !  Well,  I'm  sure  I'm  flattered,"  smiled  the 
man,  ironically.  Though  his  face  and  words  ex 
pressed  polite  doubt,  it  might  have  been  noticed  that 
he  sat  a  little  straighter  on  the  bench.  "  And,  pray, 
what  shall  we  talk  about?" 

"  It's  —  it's  infinitesimal  to  me.  That  means  I  don't 
care,  doesn't  it?"  asked  Pollyanna,  with  a  beaming 
smile.  "  Aunt  Polly  says  that,  whatever  I  talk  about, 
anyhow,  I  always  bring  up  at  the  Ladies'  Aiders.  But 
I  reckon  that's  because  they  brought  me  up  first,  don't 
you?  We  might  talk  about  the  party.  I  think  it's  a 
perfectly  beautiful  party  —  now  that  I  know  some 


one." 


P-party? 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  55 

'  Yes  —  this,  you  know  —  all  these  people  here  to 
day.  It  is  a  party,  isn't  it  ?  The  lady  said  it  was  for 
everybody,  so  I  stayed  —  though  I  haven't  got  to 
where  the  house  is,  yet,  that's  giving  the  party." 

The  man's  lips  twitched. 

"  Well,  little  lady,  perhaps  it  is  a  party,  in  a  way/' 
he  smiled ;  "  but  the  '  house '  that's  giving  it  is  the 
city  of  Boston.  This  is  the  Public  Garden  —  a  public 
park,  you  understand,  for  everybody." 

"Is  it ?  Always ?  And  I  may  come  here  any  time 
I  iwant  to?  Oh,  how  perfectly  lovely!  That's  even 
nicer  than  I  thought  it  could  be.  I'd  worried  for  fear 
I  couldn't  ever  come  again,  after  to-day,  you  see.  I'm 
glad  now,  though,  that  I  didn't  know  it  just  at  the 
first,  for  it's  all  the  nicer  now.  Nice  things  are  nicer 
when  you've  been  worrying  for  fear  they  won't  be 
nice,  aren't  they?" 

"Perhaps  they  are  —  if  they  ever  turn  out  to  be 
nice  at  all,"  conceded  the  man,  a  little  gloomily. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  nodded  Pollyanna,  not  noticing 
the  giloom.  "But  isn't  it  beautiful  —  here?"  she 
gloried.  "  I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Carew  knows  about  it  — 
that  it's  for  anybody,  so.  Why,  I  should  think  every 
body  would  want  to  come  here  all  the  time,  and  just 
stay  and  look  around." 

The  man's  face  hardened. 

"  Well,  there  are  a  few  people  in  the  world  who 
have  got  a  job  —  who've  got  something  to  do  besides 
just  to  come  here  and  stay  and  look  around;  but  I 
don't  happen  to  be  one  of  them." 

"  Don't  you  ?     Then  you  can  be  glad  for  that,  can't 


56  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

you?"  sighed  Pollyanna,  her  eyes  delightedly  follow 
ing  a  passing  boat. 

The  man's  lips  parted  indignantly,  but  no  words 
came.  Pollyanna  was  still  talking. 

"  I  wish  /  didn't  have  anything  to  do  but  that.  I 
have  to  go  to  school.  Oh,  I  like  school;  but  there's 
such  a  whole  lot  of  things  I  like  better.  Still  I'm  glad 
I  can  go  to  school.  I'm  'specially  glad  when  I  remem 
ber  how  last  winter  I  didn't  think  I  could  ever  go 
again.  You  see,  I  lost  my  legs  for  a  while  —  I  mean, 
they  didn't  go;  and  you  know  you  never  know  how 
much  you  use  things,  till  you  don't  have  'em.  And  eyes, 
too.  Did  you  ever  think  what  a  lot  you  do  with  eyes  ? 
I  didn't  till  I  went  to  the  Sanatorium.  There  was  a 
lady  there  who  had  just  got  blind  the  year  before.  I 
tried  to  get  her  to  play  the  game  —  finding  something 
to  be  glad  about,  you  know  —  but  she  said  she 
couldn't;  and  if  I  wanted  to  know  why,  I  might  tie 
up  my  eyes  with  my  handkerchief  for  just  one  hour. 
And  I  did.  It  was  awful.  Did  you  ever  try  it?  " 

"Why,  n-no,  I  didn't."  A  half-vexed,  half-baffled 
expression  was  coming  to  the  man's  face. 

"  Well,  don't.  It's  awful.  You  can't  do  anything 
—  not  anything  that  you  want  to  do.  But  I  kept  it 
on  the  whole  hour.  Since  then  I've  been  so  glad, 
sometimes  —  when  I  see  something  perfectly  lovely 
like  this,  you  know — I've  been  so  glad  I  wanted  to 
cry ;  —  'cause  I  could  see  it,  you  know.  She's  playing 
the  game  now,  though  —  that  blind  lady  is.  Miss 
Wetherby  told  me." 

"The  —  gamer' 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  57 

"  Yes;  the  glad  game.  Didn't  I  tell  you?  Finding 
something  in  everything  to  be  glad  about.  Well,  she's 
found  it  now  —  about  her  eyes,  you  know.  Her  hus 
band  is  the  kind  of  a  man  that  goes  to  help  make  the 
laws,  and  she  had  him  ask  for  one  that  would  help 
blind  people,  'specially  little  babies.  And  she  went 
herself  and  talked  and  told  those  men  how  it  felt  to 
be  blind.  And  they  made  it  —  that  law.  And  they 
said  that  she  did  more  than  anybody  else,  even  her 
husband,  to  help  make  it,  and  that  they  didn't  believe 
there  would  have  been  any  law  at  all  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  her.  So  now  she  says  she's  glad  she  lost  her  eyes, 
'cause  she's  kept  so  many  little  babies  from  growing 
up  to  be  blind  like  her.  So  you  see  she's  playing  it  — 
the  game.  But  I  reckon  you  don't  know  about  the 
game  yet,  after  all;  so  I'll  tell  you.  It  started  this 
way."  And  Pollyanna,  with  her  eyes  on  the  shim 
mering  beauty  all  about  her,  told  of  the  little  pair  of 
crutches  of  long  ago,  which  should  have  been  a  doll. 

When  the  story  was  finished  there  was  a  long 
silence ;  then,  a  little  abruptly  the  man  got  to  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  are  you  going  away  now? "  she  asked  in 
open  disappointment. 

"  Yes,  I'm  going  now."  He  smiled  down  at  her  a 
little  queerly. 

"  But  you're  coming  back  sometime  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  —  but  again  he  smiled. 

"  I  hope  not  —  and  I  believe  not,  little  girl.  You 
see,  I've  made  a  great  discovery  to-day.  I  thought  I 
was  down  and  out.  I  thought  there  was  no  place  for 
me  anywhere  —  now.  But  I've  just  discovered  that 


58  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

I've  got  two  eyes,  two  arms,  and  two  legs.  Now  I'm. 
going  to  use  them  —  and  I'm  going  to  make  somebody 
understand  that  I  know  how  to  use  them  I " 

The  next  moment  he  was  gone. 

[f  Why,  what  a  funny  man ! "  mused  Pollyanna. 
"  Still,  he  was  nice  —  and  he  was  different,  too,"  she 
finished,  rising  to  her  feet  and  resuming  her  walk. 

Pollyanna  was  now  once  more  her  usual  cheerful 
self,  and  she  stepped  with  the  confident  assurance  of 
one  who  has  no  doubt.  Had  not  the  man  said  that 
this  was  a  public  park,  and  that  she  had  as  good  a 
right  as  anybody  to  be  there?  She  walked  nearer  to 
the  pond  and  crossed  the  bridge  to  the  starting-place 
of  the  little  boats.  For  some  time  she  watched  the 
children  happily,  keeping  a  particularly  sharp  lookout 
for  the  possible  black  curls  of  Susie  Smith.  She 
would  have  liked  to  take  a  ride  in  the  pretty  boats 
herself,  but  the  sign  said  "  Five  cents  "  a  trip,  and 
she  did  not  have  any  money  with  her.  She  smiled 
hopefully  into  the  faces  of  several  women,  and  twice 
she  spoke  tentatively.  .But  no  one  spoke  first  to  her, 
and  those  whom  she  addressed  eyed  her  coldly,  and 
made  scant  response. 

After  a  time  she  turned  her  steps  into  still  another 
path.  Here  she  found  a  white-faced  boy  in  a  wheel 
chair.  She  would  have  spoken  to  him,  but  he  was  so 
absorbed  in  his  book  that  she  turned  away  after  a  mo 
ment's  wistful  gazing.  Soon  then  she  came  upon  a 
pretty,  but  sad-looking  young  girl  sitting  alone,  staring 
at  nothing,  very  much  as  the  man  had  sat.  With  a 
contented  little  cry  Pollyanna  hurried  forward. 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  59 

"  Oh,  how  do  yo<u  do?  "  she  beamed.  "  I'm  so  glad 
I  found  you!  I've  been  hunting  ever  so  long  for  you," 
she  asserted,  dropping-  herself  down  on  the  unoccupied 
end  of  the  bench. 

The  pretty  girl  turned  with  a  start,  an  eager  look 
of  expectancy  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  falling  back  in  plain  dis 
appointment.  "  I  thought  —  Why,  what  do  you 
mean?  "  she  demanded  aggrievedly.  "  I  never  set  eyes 
on  you  before  in  my  life." 

"  No,  I  didn't  you,  either,"  smiled  Pollyanna;  "but 
I've  been  hunting  for  you,  just  the  same.  That  is,  of 
course  I  didn't  know  you  were  going  to  be  you,  ex 
actly.  It's  just  that  I  wanted  to  find  some  one  that 
looked  lonesome,  and  that  didn't  have  anybody.  Like 
me,  you  know.  So  many  here  to-day  have  got  folks. 
See?" 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  nodded  the  girl,  falling  back  into  her 
old  listlessness.  "  But,  poor  little  kid,  it's  too  bad  you 
should  find  it  out  —  so  soon." 

"  Find  what  out?" 

"  That  the  lonesomest  place  in  all  the  world  is  in  a 
crowd  in  a  big  city." 

Pollyanna  frowned  and  pondered. 

"  Is  it  ?  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be.  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  be  lonesome  when  you've  got  folks  all  around 
you.  Still  —  "  she  hesitated,  and  the  frown  deepened. 
"  I  was  lonesome  this  afternoon,  and  there  were  folks 
all  around  me;  only  they  didn't  seem  to  —  to  think  — 
or  notice." 

The  pretty  girl  smiled  bitterly. 


60  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"That's  just  it.  They  don't  ever  think  —  or 
notice,  crowds  don't." 

"  But  some  folks  do.  We  can  be  glad  some  do," 
urged  Pollyanna.  "  Now  when  I  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  some  do,"  interrupted  the  other.  As  she 
spoke  she  shivered  and  looked  fearfully  down  the  path 
beyond  Pollyanna.  "  Some  notice  —  too  much." 

Pollyanna  shrank  back  in  dismay.  Repeated  re 
buffs  that  afternoon  had  given  her  a  new  sensitiveness. 

"Do  you  mean  —  me?"  she  stammered.  "That 
you  wished  I  hadn't  —  noticed  —  you  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  kiddie !  I  meant  —  some  one  quite  dif 
ferent  from  you.  Some  one  that  hadn't  ought  to 
notice.  I  was  glad  to  have  you  speak,  only  —  I 
thought  at  first  it  was  some  one  from  home." 

"  Oh,  then  you  don't  live  here,  either,  any  more 
than  I  do  —  I  mean,  for  keeps." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  live  here  now,"  sighed  the  girl ;  "  that 
is,  if  you  can  call  it  living  —  what  I  do." 

"  What  do  you  do  ? "  asked  Pollyanna  interest 
edly. 

"Do?  I'll  tell  you  what  I  do,"  cried  the  other, 
with  sudden  bitterness.  "  From  morning  till  night  I 
sell  fluffy  laces  and  perky  bows  to  girls  that  laugh  and 
talk  and  know  each  other.  Then  I  go  home  to  a  little 
back  room  up  three  flights  just  big  enough  to  hold  a 
lumpy  cot-bed,  a  washstand  with  a  nicked  pitcher,  one 
rickety  chair,  and  me.  It's  like  a  furnace  in  the  sum 
mer  and  an  ice  box  in  the  winter ;  but  it's  all  the  place 
I've  got,  and  I'm  supposed  to  stay  in  it  —  when  I  ain't 
workin'.  But  I've  come  out  to-day.  I  ain't  goin'  to 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  61 

stay  in  that  room,  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  go  to  any  old 
library  to  read,  neither.  It's  our  last  half-holiday  this 
year  —  and  an  extra  one,  at  that ;  and  I'm  going  to 
have  a  good  time  —  for  once.  I'm  just  as  young,  and 
I  like  to  laugh  and  joke  just  as  well  as  them  girls  I  sell 
bows  to  all  day.  Well,  to-day  I'm  going  to  laugh  and 
joke." 

Pollyanna  smiled  and  nodded  her  approval. 

"  I'm  glad  you  feel  that  way.  I  do,  too.  It's  a  lot 
more  fun  —  to  be  happy,  isn't  it  ?  Besides,  the  Bible 
tells  us  to;  —  rejoice  and  be  glad,  I  mean.  It  tells  us 
to  eight  hundred  times.  Probably  you  know  about 
'em,  though  —  the  rejoicing  texts." 

The  pretty  girl  shook  her  head.  A  queer  look  came 
to  her  face. 

"  Well,  no,"  she  said  dryly.  "  I  can't  say  I  was 
thinkin'  —  of  the  Bible." 

"Weren't  you?  Well,  maybe  not;  but,  you  see, 
my  father  was  a  minister,  and  he  —  " 

"  A  minister? )} 

"Yes.  Why,  was  yours,  too?"  cried  Pollyanna, 
answering  something  she  saw  in  the  other's  face. 

"  Y-yes."  A  faint  color  crept  up  to  the  girl's  fore 
head. 

"  Oh,  and  has  he  gone  like  mine  to  be  with  God  and 
the  angels?  " 

The  girl  turned  away  her  head. 

"  No.  He's  still  living  —  back  home,"  she  an 
swered,  half  under  her  breath. 

"  Oh,  how  glad  you  must  be,"  sighed  Pbllyanna, 
enviously.  "  Sometimes  I  get  to  thinking,  if  only  I 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


could  just  see  father  once  —  but  you  do  see  your 
father,  don't  you?" 

"  Not  often.    You  see,  I'm  down  —  here." 

"  But  you  can  see  him  —  and  I  can't,  mine.  He's 
gone  to  be  with  mother  and  the  rest  of  us  up  in 
Heaven,  and —  Have  you  got  a  mother,  too  —  an 
earth  mother?  " 

"  Y-yes."  The  girl  stirred  restlessly,  and  half 
moved  as  if  to  go. 

"  Oh,  then  you  can  see  both  of  them/'  breathed 
Pollyanna,  unutterable  longing  in  her  face.  "  Oh, 
how  glad  you  must  be !  For  there  just  isn't  anybody, 
is  there,  that  really  cares  and  notices  quite  so  much 
as  fathers  and  mothers.  You  see  I  know,  for  I  had  a 
father  until  I  was  eleven  years  old ;  but,  for  a  mother, 
I  had  Ladies'  Aiders  for  ever  so  long,  till  Aunt  Polly 
took  me.  Ladies'  Aiders  are  lovely,  but  of  course  they 
aren't  like  mothers,  or  even  Aunt  Pollys;  and  —  " 

On  and  an  Pollyanna  talked.  Pollyanna  was  in  her 
element  now.  Pollyanna  loved  to  talk.  That  there 
was  anything  strange  or  unwise  or  even  uncon 
ventional  in  this  intimate  telling  of  her  thoughts  and 
her  history  to  a  total  stranger  on  a  Boston  park  bench 
did  not  once  occur  to  Pollyanna.  To  Pollyanna  all 
men,  women,  and  children  were  friends,  either  known 
or  unknown;  and  thus  far  she  had  found  the  un 
known  quite  as  delightful  as  the  known,  for  with  them 
there  was  always  the  excitement  of  mystery  and  ad 
venture —  while  they  were  changing  from  the  un 
known  to  the  known. 

To  this  young  girl  at  her  side,  therefore,  Pollyanna 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  63 

talked  unreservedly  of  her  father,  her  Aunt  Polly,  her 
Western  home,  and  her  journey  East  to  Vermont. 
She  told  of  new  friends  and  old  friends,  and  of  course 
she  told  of  the  game.  Pollyanna  almost  always  told 
everybody  of  the  game,  either  sooner  or  later.  It  was, 
indeed,  so  much  a  part  of  her  very  self  that  she  could 
hardly  have  helped  telling  of  it. 

As  for  the  girl  —  she  said  little.  She  was  not  now 
sitting  in  her  old  listless  attitude,  however,  and  to  her 
whole  self  had  come  a  marked  change.  The  flushed 
cheeks,  frowning  brow,  troubled  eyes,  and  nervously 
working  fingers  were  plainly  the  signs  of  some  inward 
struggle.  From  time  to  time  she  glanced  apprehen 
sively  down  the  path  beyond  Pollyanna,  and  it  was 
after  such  a  glance  that  she  clutched  the  little  girl's 
arm. 

"  See  here,  kiddie,  for  just  a  minute  don't  you  leave 
me.  Do  you  hear?  Stay  right  where  you  are! 
There's  a  man  I  know  comin' ;  but  no  matter  what  he 
says,  don't  you  pay  no  attention,  and  don't  you  go. 
I'm  goin'  to  stay  with  you.  See?  " 

Before  Pollyanna  could  more  than  gasp  her  won 
derment  and  surprise,  she  found  herself  looking  up 
into  the  face  of  a  very  handsome  young  gentleman, 
who  had  stopped  before  them. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,"  he  smiled  pleasantly,  lifting 
his  hat  to  Pollyanna's  companion.  "  I'm  afraid  I'll 
have  to  begin  with  an  apology  —  I'm  a  little  late." 

"  It  don't  matter,  sir,"  said  the  young  girl,  speak 
ing  hurriedly.  "I  —  I've  decided  not  to  go." 

The  young  man  gave  a  light  laugh. 


64  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Oh,  come,  my  dear,  don't  be  hard  on  a  chap  be 
cause  he's  a  little  late !  " 

"  It  isn't  that,  really,"  defended  the  girl,  a  swift 
red  flaming  into  her  cheeks.  "  I  mean  —  I'm  not 
going." 

"  Nonsense ! "  The  man  stopped  smiling.  He 
spoke  sharply.  "  You  said  yesterday  you'd  go." 

"  I  know ;  but  I've  changed  my  mind.  I  told  my 
little  friend  here  —  I'd  stay  with  her." 

"  Oh,  but  if  you'd  rather  go  with  this  nice  young 
gentleman,"  began  Pollyanna,  anxiously;  but  she  fell 
back  silenced  at  the  look  the  girl  gave  her. 

"  I  tell  you  I  had  not  rather  go.     I'm  not  going." 

"  And,  pray,  why  this  sudden  right-about  face  ?  " 
demanded  the  young  man  with  an  expression  that 
made  him  suddenly  look,  to  Pollyanna,  not  quite  so 
handsome.  "  Yesterday  you  said  —  " 

"  I  know  I  did,"  interrupted  the  girl,  feverishly. 
"  But  I  knew  then  that  I  hadn't  ought  to.  Let's  call 
it — that  I  know  it  even  better  now.  That's  all." 
And  she  turned  away  resolutely. 

It  was  not  all.  The  man  spoke  again,  twice.  He 
coaxed,  then  he  sneered  with  a  hateful  look  in  his1 
eyes.  At  last  he  said  something  very  low  and  angry, 
which  Pollyanna  did  not  understand.  The  next  mo 
ment  he  wheeled  about  and  strode  away. 

The  girl  watched  him  tensely  till  he  passed  quite 
out  of  sight,  then,  relaxing,  she  laid  a  shaking  hand 
on  Pollyanna's  arm. 

"  Thanks,  kiddie.  I  reckon  I  owe  you  —  more  than 
you  know.  Good-by." 


Pollyanna  Takes  a  Walk  65 

"  But  you  aren't  going  away  now! "  bemoaned 
Pollyanna. 

The  girl  sighed  wearily. 

"  I  got  to.  He  might  come  back,  and  next  time  I 
might  not  be  able  to  —  "  She  clipped  the  words  short 
and  rose  to  her  feet.  For  a  moment  she  hesitated, 
then  she  choked  bitterly:  "  You  see,  he's  the  kind  that 
—  notices  too  much,  and  that  hadn't  ought  to  notice 
* —  me  —  at  all !  "  With  that  she  was  gone. 

"  Why,  what  a  funny  lady,"  murmured  Pollyanna, 
looking  wistfully  after  the  vanishing  figure.  "  She 
was  nice,  but  she  iwas  sort  of  different,  too,"  she  com 
mented,  rising  to  her  feet  and  moving  idly  down  the 
path. 


CHAPTER   VI 

JERRY   TO    THE   RESCUE 

IT  was  not  long  before  Pollyanna  reached  the  edge 
of  the  Garden  at  a  corner  where  two  streets  crossed. 
It  was  a  wonderfully  interesting  corner,  with  its  hurry 
ing  cars,  automobiles,  carriages  and  pedestrians.  A 
huge  red  bottle  in  a  drug-store  window  caught  her.  eye, 
and  from  down  the  street  came  the  sound  of  a  hurdy- 
gurdy.  Hesitating  only  a  moment  Pollyanna  darted 
across  the  corner  and  skipped  lightly  down  the  street 
toward  the  entrancing  music. 

Pollyanna  found  much  to  interest  her  now.  In  the 
store  windows  were  marvelous  objects,  and  around  the 
hurdy-gurdy,  when  she  had  reached  it,  she  found  a 
dozen  dancing  children,  most  fascinating  to  watch. 
So  altogether  delightful,  indeed,  did  this  pastime  prove 
to  be  that  Pollyanna  followed  the  hurdy-gurdy  for 
some  distance,  just  to  see  those  children  dance.  Pres 
ently  she  found  herself  at  a  corner  so  busy  that  a  very 
big  man  in  a  belted  blue  coat  helped  the  people  across 
the  street.  For  an  absorbed  minute  she  watched  him 
in  silence ;  then,  a  little  timidly,  she  herself  started  to 
cross. 

It  was  a  wonderful  experience.  The  big,  blue- 
coated  man  saw  her  at  once  and  promptly  beckoned 
to  her.  He  even  walked  to  meet  her.  Then,  through 

66 


TWICE  AGAIN,   AFTER   SHORT    INTERVALS,    SHE   TROD   THE 
FASCINATING    WAY." 


Jerry  to  the  Rescue  67 

a  wide  lane  with  puffing  motors  and  impatient  horses 
on  either  hand,  she  walked  unscathed  to  the  further 
curb.  It  gave  her  a  delightful  sensation,  so  delight 
ful  that,  after  a  minute,  she  walked  back.  Twice 
again,  after  short  intervals,  she  trod  the  fascinating 
way  so  magically  opened  at  the  lifting  of  the  big  man's 
hand.  But  the  last  time  her  conductor  left  her  at  the 
curb,  he  gave  a  puzzled  frown. 

"  See  here,  little  girl,  ain't  you  the  same  one  what 
crossed  a  minute  ago?  "  he  demanded.  "  And  again 
before  that?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  beamed  Pollyanna.  "  I've  been  across 
four  times ! " 

"Well!"  the  officer  began  to  bluster;  but  Polly 
anna  was  still  talking. 

"  And  it's  been  nicer  every  time !  " 

"  Oh-h,  it  has  —  has  it?"  mumbled  the  big  man, 
lamely.  Then,  with  a  little  more  spirit  he  sputtered: 
"  What  do  you  think  I'm  here  for  —  just  to  tote  you 
back  and  forth?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  dimpled  Pollyanna.  "Of  course 
you  aren't  just  for  me!  There  are  all  these  others. 
I  know  what  you  are.  You're  a  policeman.  We've 
got  one  of  you  out  where  I  live  at  Mrs.  Carew's,  only 
he's  the  kind  that  just  walks  on  the  sidewalk,  you 
know.  I  used  to  think  you  were  soldiers,  on  account 
of  your  gold  buttons  and  blue  hats ;  but  I  know  better 
now.  Only  I  think  you  are  a  kind  of  a  soldier,  'cause 
you're  so  brave  —  standing  here  like  this,  right  in  the 
middle  of  all  these  teams  and  automobiles,  helping 
folks  across." 


68  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"Ho  — ho!  Brrrr!"  spluttered  the  big  man, 
coloring  like  a  schoolboy  and  throwing  back  his  head 
with  a  hearty  laugh.  "  Ho  —  ho!  Just  as  if  —  " 
He  broke  off  with  a  quick  lifting  of  his  hand.  The 
next  moment  he  was  escorting  a  plainly  very  much 
frightened  little  old  lady  from  curb  to  curb.  If  his 
step  were  a  bit  more  pompous,  and  his  chest  a  bit 
more  full,  it  must  have  been  only  an  unconscious 
tribute  to  the  watching  eyes  of  the  little  girl  back  at 
the  starting-point.  A  moment  later,  with  a  haughtily 
permissive  wave  of  his  hand  toward  the  chafing  drivers 
and  chauffeurs,  he  strolled  back  to  Pollyanna. 

"  Oh,  that  was  splendid !  "  she  greeted  him,  with 
shining  eyes.  "  I  love  to  see  you  do  it  —  and  it's  just 
like  the  Children  of  Israel  crossing  the  Red  Sea,  isn't 
it  ?  —  with  you  holding  back  the  waves  for  the  people 
to  cross.  And  how  glad  you  must  be  all  the  time,  that 
you  can  do  it !  I  used  to  think  being  a  doctor  was  the 
very  gladdest  business  there  was,  but  I  reckon,  after 
all,  being  a  policeman  is  gladder  yet  —  to  help  fright 
ened  people  like  this,  you  know.  And  —  "<•»  But  with 
another  "  Brrrr !  "  and  an  embarrassed  laugh,  the  big 
blue-coated  man  was  back  in  the  middle  of  the  street, 
and  Pollyanna  was  all  alone  on  the  curbstone. 

For  only  a  minute  longer  did  Pollyanna  watch  her 
fascinating  "  Red  Sea,"  then,  with  a  regretful  back 
ward  glance,  she  turned  away. 

"  I  reckon  maybe  I'd  better  be  going  home  now/' 
she  meditated.  "  It  must  be  'most  dinner  time."  And 
briskly  she  started  to  walk  back  by  the  way  she  had 
come. 


Jerry  to  the  Rescue 


Not  until  she  had  hesitated  at  several  corners,  and 
unwittingly  made  two  false  turns,  did  Polly  anna 
grasp  the  fact  that  "  going  back  home  "  was  not  to 
be  so  easy  as  she  had  thought  it  to  be.  And  not  until 
she  came  to  a  building  which  she  knew  she  had  never 
seen  before,  did  she  fully  realize  that  she  had  lost  her 
way. 

She  was  on  a  narrow  street,  dirty,  and  ill-paved. 
Dingy  tenement  blocks  and  a  few  unattractive  stores 
were  on  either  side.  All  about  were  jabbering  men 
and  chattering  women  —  though  not  one  word  of 
what  they  said  could  Pollyanna  understand.  More 
over,  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  the  people  looked 
at  her  very  curiously,  as  if  they  knew  she  did  not  be 
long  there. 

Several  times,  already,  she  had  asked  her  way,  but 
in  vain.  No  one  seemed  to  know  where  Mrs.  Carew 
lived;  and,  the  last  two  times,  those  addressed  had 
answered  with  a  gesture  and  a  jumble  of  words  which 
Pollyanna,  after  some  thought,  decided  must  be 
"Dutch,"  the  kind  the  Haggermans  —  the  only 
foreign  family  in  Beldingsville  —  used. 

On  and  on,  down  one  street  and  up  another,  Polly 
anna  trudged.  She  was  thoroughly  frightened  now. 
She  was  hungry,  too,  and  very  tired.  Her  feet  ached, 
and  her  eyes  smarted  with  the  tears  she  was  trying 
so  hard  to  hold  back.  Worse  yet,  it  was  unmistakably 
beginning  to  grow  dark. 

"  Well,  anyhow/'  she  choked  to  herself,  "  I'm  going* 
to  be  glad  I'm  lost,  'cause  it'll  be  so  nice  when  I  get 
found.  I  can  be  glad  for  that !  " 


70  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

It  was  at  a  noisy  corner  where  two  broader  streets 
crossed  that  Pollyanna  finally  came  to  a  dismayed 
stop.  This  time  the  tears  quite  overflowed,  so  that, 
lacking  a  handkerchief,  she  had  to  use  the  backs  of 
both  hands  to  wipe  them  away. 

"  Hullo,  kid,  why  the  weeps  ? "  queried  a  cheery 
voice.  "What's  up?" 

With  a  relieved  little  cry  Pollyanna  turned  to  con 
front  a  small  boy  carrying  a  bundle  of  newspapers 
under  his  arm. 

"  Oh,  Pm  so  glad  to  see  you ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"I've  so  wanted  to  see  some  one  who  didn't  talk 
Dutch!" 

The  small  boy  grinned. 

"  Dutch  nothin' !  "  he  scoffed.  "  You  mean  Dago,  I 
bet  ye." 

Pollyanna  gave  a  slight  frown. 

"  Well,  anyway,  it  —  it  wasn't  English,"  she  said 
doubtfully;  "and  they  couldn't  answer  my  questions. 
But  maybe  you  can.  Do  you  know  where  Mrs.  Carew 
lives?" 

"  Nix !    You  can  search  me." 

"  Wha-at  ?  "  queried  Pollyanna,  still  more  doubt 
fully. 

The  boy  grinned  again. 

"  I  say  not  in  mine.  I  guess  I  ain't  acquainted  with 
the  lady." 

"  But  isn't  there  anybody  anywhere  that  is  ?  "  im 
plored  Pollyanna.  "  You  see,  I  just  went  out  for  a 
walk  and  I  got  lost.  I've  been  ever  and  ever  so  far, 
but  I  can't  find  the  house  at  all ;  and  it's  supper  —  I 


Jerry  to  the  Rescue  71 

mean  dinner  time  and  getting  dark.  I  want  to  get 
back.  I  must  get  back." 

"Gee!  Well,  I  should  worry!"  sympathized  the 
boy. 

"  Yes,  and  I'm  afraid  Mrs.  Carew'll  worry,  too," 
sighed  Pollyanna. 

"  Gorry !  if  you  ain't  the  limit,"  chuckled  the  youth, 
unexpectedly.  "  But,  say,  listen !  Don't  ye  know  the 
name  of  the  street  ye  want?  " 

"  No  —  only  that  it's  some  kind  of  an  avenue,"  de 
sponded  Pollyanna. 

"A  avenoo,  is  it?  Sure,  now,  some  class  to  that! 
We're  doin'  fine.  What's  the  number  of  the  house? 
Can  ye  tell  me  that?  Just  scratch  your  head !  " 

"  Scratch  —  my  —  head?  "  Pollyanna  frowned 
questioningly,  and  raised  a  tentative  hand  to  her 
hair. 

The  boy  eyed  her  with  disdain. 

"  Aw,  come  off  yer  perch !  Ye  ain't  so  dippy  as  all 
that.  I  say,  don't  ye  know  the  number  of  the  house 
ye  want  ?  " 

"  N-no,  except  there's  a  seven  in  it,"  returned  Pol 
lyanna,  with  a  faintly  hopeful  air. 

"Won't  ye  listen  ter  that?"  gibed  the  scornful 
youth.  "  There's  a  seven  in  it  —  an'  she  expects  me 
ter  know  it  when  I  see  it !  " 

"  Oh,  I  should  know  the  house,  if  I  could  only  see 
it,"  declared  Pollyanna,  eagerly;  "and  I  think  I'd 
Imow  the  street,  too,  on  account  of  the  lovely  long 
yard  running  right  up  and  down  through  the  middle 
of  it." 


72  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

This  time  it  was  the  boy  who  gave  a  puzzled  frown. 

"  Yard?"  he  queried,  "  in  the  middle  of  a  street?  " 

"  Yes  —  trees  and  grass,  you  know,  with  a  walk  in 
the  middle  of  it,  and  seats,  and  —  "  But  the  boy  in 
terrupted  her  with  a  whoop  of  delight. 

"Gee  whiz!  Commonwealth  Avenue,  sure  as  yer 
livinM  Wouldn't  that  get  yer  goat,  now?  " 

"Oh,  do  you  know  —  do  you,  really?"  besought 
Pollyanna.  "  That  sounded  like  it  —  only  I  don't 
know  what  you  meant  about  the  goat  part.  There 
aren't  any  goats  there.  I  don't  think  they'd  allow  - 

"  Goats  nothin' !  "  scoffed  the  boy.  "  You  bet  yer 
sweet  life  I  know  where  'tis!  Don't  I  tote  Sir  James 
up  there  to  the  Garden  'most  ev'ry  day  ?  An'  I'll  take 
you,  too.  Jest  ye  hang  out  here  till  I  get  on  ter  my 
job  again,  an'  sell  out  my  stock.  Then  we'll  make 
tracks  for  that  'ere  Avenue  'fore  ye  can  say  Jack 
Robinson." 

"You  mean  you'll  take  me  —  home?"  appealed 
Pollyanna,  still  plainly  not  quite  understanding. 

"  Sure !     It's  a  cinch  —  if  you  know  the  house." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  the  house,"  replied  the  literal 
Pollyanna,  anxiously,  "  but  I  don't  know  whether  it's 
a  —  a  cinch,  or  not.  If  it  isn't,  can't  you  —  " 

But  the  boy  only  threw  her  another  disdainful 
glance  and  darted  off  into  the  thick  of  the  crowd.  A! 
moment  later  Pollyanna  heard  his  strident  call  of 
"paper,  paper!  Herald,  Globe,  —  paper,  sir?" 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  Pollyanna  stepped  back  into 
a  doorway  and  waited.  She  was  tired,  but  she  was 
happy.  In  spite  of  sundry  puzzling  aspects  of  the 


Jerry  to  the  Rescue  73 

case,  she  yet  trusted  the  boy,  and  she  had  perfect  con 
fidence  that  he  could  take  her  home. 

"  He's  nice,  and  I  like  him,"  she  said  to  herself, 
following  with  her  eyes  the  boy's  alert,  darting  figure. 
"  But  he  does  talk  funny.  His  words  sound  English, 
but  some  of  them  don't  seem  to  make  any  sense  with 
the  rest  of  what  he  says.  But  then,  I'm  glad  he  found 
me,  anyway,"  she  finished  with  a  contented  little  sigh. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  boy  returned,  his  hands 
empty. 

"  Come  on,  kid.  All  aboard,"  he  called  cheerily. 
"  Now  we'll  hit  the  trail  for  the  Avenue.  If  I  was  the 
real  thing,  now,  I'd  tote  ye  home  in  style  in  a  buzz- 
wagon  ;  but  seem'  as  how  I  hain't  got  the  dough,  we'll 
have  ter  hoof  it." 

It  was,  for  the  most  part,  a  silent  walk.  Pollyanna, 
rfor  once  in  her  life,  was  too  tired  to  talk,  even  of  the 
Ladies'  Aiders;  and  the  boy  was  intent  on  picking 
out  the  shortest  way  to  his  goal.  When  the  Public 
Garden  was  reached,  Pollyanna  did  exclaim  joyfully: 

"  Oh,  now  I'm  'most  there !  I  remember  this  place. 
I  had  a  perfectly  lovely  time  here  this  afternoon.  It's 
only  a  little  bit  of  a  ways  home  now." 

"That's  the  stuff!  Now  we're  gettin'  there," 
crowed  the  boy.  "  What'd  I  tell  ye?  We'll  just  cut 
through  here  to  the  Avenue,  an'  then  it'll  be  up  ter 
you  ter  find  the  house." 

"  Oh,  I  can  find  the  house,"  exulted  Pollyanna,  with 
all  the  confidence  of  one  who  has  reached  familiar 
ground. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  Pollyanna  led  the  way  up 


74  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

the  broad  Carew  steps.  The  boy's  ring  at  the  bell  was 
very  quickly  answered,  and  Pollyanna  found  herself 
confronted  by  not  only  Mary,  but  by  Mrs.  Carew, 
Bridget,  and  Jennie  as  well.  All  four  of  the  women 
were  white-faced  and  anxious-eyed. 

"Child,  child,  where  have  you  been?."  demanded 
Mrs.  Carew,  hurrying  forward. 

"  Why,  I  —  I  just  went  to  walk/'  began  Pollyanna, 
"  and  I  got  lost,  and  this  boy  —  " 

"Where  did  you  find  her?"  cut  in  Mrs.  Carew, 
turning  imperiously  to  Pollyanna's  escort,  who  was, 
at  the  moment,  gazing  in  frank  admiration  at  the 
wonders  about  him  in  the  brilliantly-lighted  hall. 
"  Where  did  you  find  her,  boy?  "  she  repeated  sharply. 

For  a  brief  moment  the  boy  met  her  gaze  unflinch 
ingly;  then  something  very  like  a  twinkle  came  into 
his  eyes,  though  his  voice,  when  he  spoke,  was  gravity 
itself. 

"  Well,  I  found  her  'round  Bowdoin  Square,  but  I 
reckon  she'd  been  doin'  the  North  End,  only  she 
couldn't  catch  on  ter  the  lingo  of  the  Dagos,  so  I 
don't  think  she  give  'em  the  glad  hand,  ma'am." 

"The  North  End  — that  child  — alone!  Polly 
anna  1"  shuddered  Mrs.  Carew. 

"  Oh,  I  wasn't  alone,  Mrs.  Carew,"  fended  Polly 
anna.  "  There  were  ever  and  ever  so  many  people 
there,  weren't  there,  boy?" 

But  the  boy,  with  an  impish  grin,  was  disappear 
ing  through  the  door. 

Pollyanna  learned  many  things  during  the  next 
half-hour.  She  learned  that  nice  little  girls  do  not 


Jerry  to  the  Rescue  75 

take  long  walks  alone  in  unfamiliar  cities,  nor  sit  on 
park  benches  and  talk  to  strangers.  She  learned, 
also,  that  it  was  only  by  a  "  perfectly  marvelous 
miracle  "  that  she  had  reached  home  at  all  that  night, 
and  that  she  had  escaped  many,  many  very  disagree 
able  consequences  of  her  foolishness.  She  learned 
that  Boston  was  not  Beldingsville,  and  that  she  must 
not  think  it  was. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Carew,"  she  finally  argued  despairingly, 
"  I  am  here,  and  I  didn't  get  lost  for  keeps.  Seems 
as  if  I  ought  to  be  glad  for  that  instead  of  thinking 
all  the  time  of  the  sorry  things  that  might  have  hap 
pened." 

"  Yes,  yes,  child,  I  suppose  so,  I  suppose  so,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Carew;  "but  you  have  given  me  such  a  fright, 
and  I  want  you  to  be  sure,  sure,  SURE  never  to  do  it 
again.  Now  come,  dear,  you  must  be  hungry." 

It  was  just  as  she  was  dropping  off  to  sleep  that 
night  that  Pbllyanna  murmured  drowsily  to  herself: 

"  The  thing  I'm  the  very  sorriest  for  of  anything 
is  that  I  didn't  ask  that  boy  his  name  nor  where  he 
lived.  Now  I  can't  ever  say  thank  you  to  him!  " 


CHAPTER   VII 

A    NEW   ACQUAINTANCE 

POLLYANNA'S  movements  were  most  carefully 
watched  over  after  her  adventurous  walk;  and,  ex 
cept  to  go  to  school,  she  was  not  allowed  out  of  the 
house  unless  Mary  or  Mrs.  Carew  herself  accompanied 
her.  This,  to  Pollyanna,  however,  was  no  cross,  for 
she  loved  both  Mrs.  Carew  and  Mary,  and  delighted  to 
be  with  them.  They  were,  too,  for  a  while,  very  gen 
erous  with  their  time.  Even  Mrs.  Carew,  in  her  ter 
ror  of  what  might  have  happened,  and  her  relief  that 
it  had  not  happened,  exerted  herself  to  entertain  the 
child. 

Thus  it  came  about  that,  with  Mrs.  Carew,  Polly 
anna  attended  concerts  and  matinees,  and  visited  the 
Public  Library  and  the  Art  Museum ;  and  with  Mary 
she  took  the  wonderful  "  seeing  Boston  "  trips,  and 
visited  the  State  House  and  the  Old  South  Church. 

Greatly  as  Pollyanna  enjoyed  the  automobile,  she 
enjoyed  the  trolley  cars  more,  as  Mrs.  Carew,  much 
to  her  surprise,  found  out  one  day. 

"Do  we  go  in  the  trolley  car?"  Pollyanna  asked 
eagerly. 

"  No.  Perkins  will  take  us,"  answered  Mrs.  Carew. 
Then,  at  the  unmistakable  disappointment  in  Polly- 

76 


A  New  Acquaintance  77 

anna's  face,  she  added  in  surprise :  "  Why,  I  thought 
you  liked  the  auto,  child !  " 

"Oh,  I  do,"  acceded  Pollyanna,  hurriedly;  "and  I 
wouldn't  say  anything,  anyway,  because  of  course  I 
know  it's  cheaper  than  the  trolley  car,  and  —  " 

"  '  Cheaper  than  the  trolley  car  ' !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Carew,  amazed  into  an  interruption. 

"  Why,  yes,"  explained  Pollyanna,  with  widening 
eyes ;  "  the  trolley  car  costs  five  cents  a  person,  you 
know,  and  the  auto  doesn't  cost  anything,  'cause  it's 
yours.  And  of  course  I  love  the  auto,  anyway,"  she 
hurried  on,  before  Mrs.  Carew  could  speak.  "  It's 
only  that  there  are  so  many  more  people  in  the  trolley 
car,  and  it's  such  fun  to  watch  them !  Don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  Well,  no,  Pollyanna,  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  re 
sponded  Mrs.  Carew,  dryly,  as  she  turned  away. 

As  it  chanced,  not  two  days  later,  Mrs.  Carew 
heard  something  more  of  Pollyanna  and  trolley  cars  — 
this  time  from  Mary. 

"  I  mean,  it's  queer,  ma'am,"  explained  Mary  ear 
nestly,  in  answer  to  a  question  her  mistress  had  asked, 
"  it's  queer  how  Miss  Pollyanna  just  gets  'round 
everybody  —  and  without  half  trying.  It  isn't  that 
she  docs  anything.  She  doesn't.  She  just  —  just 
looks  glad,  I  -guess,  that's  all.  But  I've  seen  her  get 
into  a  trolley  car  that  was  full  of  cross-looking  men 
and  women,  and  whimpering  children,  and  in  five 
minutes  you  wouldn't  know  the  place.  The  men  and 
women  have  stopped  scowling,  and  the  children  have 
^forgot  what  they're  cryin'  for. 


78  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Sometimes  it's  just  somethin'  that  Miss  Polly 
anna  has  said  to  me,  and  they've  heard  it.  Some 
times  it's  just  the  *  Thank  you/  she  gives  when  some 
body  insists  on  givin'  us  their  seat  —  and  they're  al 
ways  doin'  that  —  givin'  us  seats,  I  mean.  And  some 
times  it's  the  way  she  smiles  at  a  baby  or  a  dog.  All 
dogs  everywhere  wag  their  tails  at  her,  anyway,  and 
all  babies,  big  and  little,  smile  and  reach  out  to  her. 
If  we  get  held  up  it's  a  joke,  and  if  we  take  the  wrong 
car,  it's  the  funniest  thing  that  ever  happened.  And 
that's  the  way  'tis  about  everythin'.  One  just  can't 
stay  grumpy,  with  Miss  Pollyanna,  even  if  you're  only 
one  of  a  trolley  car  full  of  folks  that  don't  know  her/' 

"Hm-m;  very  likely,"  murmured  Mrs.  Carew, 
turning  away. 

October  proved  to  be,  that  year,  a  particularly 
warm,  delightful  month,  and  as  the  golden  days  came 
and  went,  it  was  soon  very  evident  that  to  keep  up 
with  Pollyanna's  eager  little  feet  was  a  task  which 
would  consume  altogether  too  much  of  somebody's 
time  and  patience;  and,  while  Mrs.  Carew  had  the 
one,  she  had  not  the  other,  neither  had  she  the  willing 
ness  to  allow  Mary  to  spend  quite  so  much  of  her 
time  (whatever  her  patience  might  be)  in  dancing 
attendance  to  Pollyanna's  whims  and  fancies. 

To  keep  the  child  indoors  all  through  those  glori 
ous  October  afternoons  was,  of  course,  out  of  the 
question.  Thus  it  came  about  that,  before  long,  Pol 
lyanna  found  herself  once  more  in  the  "  lovely  big 
yard  "  —  the  Boston  Public  Garden  —  and  alone. 


A  New  Acquaintance  79 

Apparently  she  was  as  free  as  before,  but  in  reality 
she  was  surrounded  by  a  high  stone  -wall  of  regula 
tions. 

She  must  not  talk  to  strange  men  or  women;  she 
must  not  play  with  strange  children;  and  under  no 
circumstances  must  she  step  foot  outside  the  Garden 
except  to  come  home.  Furthermore,  Mary,  who  had 
taken  her  to  the  Garden  and  left  her,  made  very  sure 
that  she  knew  the  way  home  —  that  she  knew  just 
where  Commonwealth  Avenue  came  down  to  Arling 
ton  Street  across  from  the  Garden.  And  always  she 
must  go  home  when  the  clock  in  the  church  tower  said 
it  was  half-past  four. 

Pollyanna  went  often  to  the  Garden  after  this. 
Occasionally  she  went  with  some  of  the  girls  from 
school.  More  often  she  went  alone.  In  spite  of  the 
somewhat  irksome  restrictions  she  enjoyed  herself 
very  much.  She  could  watch  the  people  even  if  she 
could  not  talk  to  them;  and  she  could  talk  to  the 
squirrels  and  pigeons  and  sparrows  that  so  eagerly 
came  for  the  nuts  and  grain  which  she  soon  learned 
to  carry  to  them  every  time  she  went. 

Pollyanna  often  looked  for  her  old  friends  of  that 
first  day  —  the  man  who  was  so  glad  he  had  his  eyes 
and  legs  and  arms,  and  the  pretty  young  lady  who 
would  not  go  -with  the  handsome  <man ;  but  she  never 
saw  them.  She  did  frequently  see  the  boy  in  the  wheel 
chair,  and  she  wished  she  could  talk  to  him.  The  boy 
fed  the  birds  and  squirrels,  too,  and  they  were  so 
tame  that  the  doves  would  perch  on  his  head  and 
shoulders,  and  the  squirrels  would  burrow  in  his 


80  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

pockets  for  nuts.  But  Pollyanna,  watching  from  a 
distance,  always  noticed  one  strange  circumstance :  in 
spite  of  the  boy's  very  evident  delight  in  serving  his 
banquet,  his  supply  of  food  always  ran  short  almost 
at  once;  and  though  he  invariably  looked  fully  as 
disappointed  as  did  the  squirrel  after  a  nutless  bur 
rowing,  yet  he  never  remedied  the  matter  by  bringing 
more  food  the  next  day* —  which  seemed  most  short 
sighted  to  Pollyanna. 

When  the  boy  was  not  playing  with  the  birds  and 
squirrels  he  was  reading  —  always  reading.  In  his 
chair  were  usually  two  or  three  worn  books,  and  some 
times  a  magazine  or  two.  He  was  nearly  always  to 
be  found  in  one  especial  place,  and  Pollyanna  used  to 
wonder  how  he  got  there.  Then,  one  unforgetable 
day,  she  found  out.  It  was  a  school  holiday,  and  she 
had  come  to  the  Garden  in  the  forenoon;  and  it  was 
soon  after  she  reached  the  place  that  she  saw  him  be 
ing  wheeled  along  one  of  the  paths  by  a  snub-nosed, 
sandy-haired  boy.  She  gave  a  keen  glance  into  the 
sandy-haired  boy's  face,  then  ran  to  ward  .him  with  a 
glad  little  cry. 

"Oh,  you  —  you!  I  know  you  —  even  if  I  don't 
know  your  name.  You  found  me!  Don't  you  re 
member?  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you!  I've  so 
•wanted  to  say  thank  you!  " 

"  Gee,  if  it  ain't  the  swell  little  lost  kid  of  the 
Avtnoo!"  grinned  the  boy.  "Well,  what  do  you 
know  about  that!  Lost  again?" 

"  Oh,  no !  "  exclaimed  Pollyanna,  dancing  up  and 
down  on  her  toes  in  irrepressible  joy.  "  I  can't  get 


A  New  Acquaintance  81 

lost  any  more  —  I  -have  to  stay  right  here.  And  I 
mustn't  talk,  you  know.  But  I  can  to  you,  for  I  know 
you;  and  I  can  to  him  —  after  you  introduce  me,"  she 
finished,  with  a  beaming  glance  at  the  lame  boy,  and 
a  hopeful  pause. 

The  sandy-haired  youth  chuckled  softly,  and  tapped 
the  shoulder  of  the  boy  in  the  chair. 

"  Listen  ter  that,  will  ye  ?  Ain't  that  the  real  thing, 
now?  Just  you  wait  while  I  introdooce  ye!"  And 
he  struck  a  pompous  attitude.  "  Madam,  this  is  me 
friend,  Sir  James,  Lord  of  Murphy's  Alley,  and  —  " 
But  the  boy  in  the  chair  interrupted  him. 

"  Jerry,  quit  your  nonsense !  "  he  cried  vexedly. 
Then  to  Pollyanna  he  turned  a.  glowing  face.  "  I've 
seen  you  here  lots  of  times  before.  I've  watched  you 
feed  the  birds  and  squirrels  —  you  always  have  such 
a  lot  for  them!  And  I  think  you  like  Sir  Lancelot 
the  best,  too.  Of  course,  there's  the  Lady  Rowena  — 
but  wasn't  she  rude  to  Guinevere  yesterday  —  snatch 
ing  her  dinner  right  away  from  her  like  that?" 

Pollyanna  blinked  and  frowned,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other  of  the  boys  in  plain  doubt.  Jerry  chuckled 
again.  Then,  with  a  final  push  he  wheeled  the  chair 
into  its  usual  position,  and  turned  to  go.  Over  his 
shoulder  he  called  to  Pollyanna: 

"  Say,  kid,  jest  let  me  put  ye  wise  ter  somethin'. 
This  chap  ain't  drunk  nor  crazy.  See?  Them's  jest 
names  he's  give  his  young  friends  here,"  —  with  a 
flourish  of  his  arms  toward  the  furred  and  feathered 
creatures  that  were  gathering  from  all  directions. 
"  An'  they  ain't  even  names  of  folks.  They're  just 


82  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

guys  out  of  books.  Are  ye  on?  Yet  he'd  ruther  feed 
them  than  feed  hisself.  Ain't  he  the  limit?  Ta-ta, 
Sir  James,"  he  added,  with  a  grimace,  to  the  boy  in 
the  chair.  "  Buck  up,  now  —  nix  on  the  no  grub 
racket  for  you !  See  you  later."  And  he  was  gone. 

Pollyanna  was  still  blinking  and  frowning  when 
the  lame  boy  turned  with  a  smile. 

"  You  mustn't  mind  Jerry.  That's  just  his  way. 
He'd  cut  off  his  right  hand  for  me  —  Jerry  would ; 
but  he  loves  to  tease.  Where'd  you  see  him?  Does 
he  know  you?  He  didn't  tell  me  your  name." 

"  I'm  Pollyanna  Whittier.  I  was  lost  and  he  found 
me  and  took  me  home,"  answered  Pollyanna,  still  a 
little  dazedly. 

'"  I  see.  Just  like  him,"  nodded  the  boy.  "  Don't 
he  tote  me  up  here  every  day?  " 

A  quick  sympathy  came  to  Pollyanna's  eyes. 

"Can't  you  walk  — at  all  —  er — Sir  J- James?" 

The  boy  laughed  gleefully. 

"  '  Sir  James,'  indeed !  That's  only  more  of  Jerry's 
.nonsense.  I  ain't  a  'Sir." 

Pollyanna  looked  clearly  disappointed. 

"  You  aren't  ?     Nor  a  —  a  lord,  like  he  said  ?  " 

"  I  sure  ain't." 

"  Oh,  I  hoped  you  were  —  like  Little  Lord  Fauntle- 
roy,  you  know,"  rejoined  Pollyanna.  "  And  —  " 

But  the  boy  interrupted  her  with  an  eager : 

"  Do  you  know  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy?  And  do 
you  know  about  Sir  Lancelot,  and  the  Holy  Grail,  and 
King  Arthur  and  his  Round  Table,  and  the  Lady 
Rowena,  and  Ivanhoe,  and  all  those?  Do  you?  " 


A  New  Acquaintance  S3 

Pollyanna  gave  her  head  a  dubious  shake. 

"  Well,  I'm  afraid  maybe  I  don't  know  all  of  'em," 
she  admitted.  "  Are  they  all  —  in  books?  " 

The  boy  nodded. 

"  I've  got  'em  here  —  some  of  'em,"  he  said.  "  I 
like  to  read  'em  over  and  over.  There's  always 
something  new  in  'em.  Besides,  I  hain't  got  n<r 
others,  anyway.  These  were  father's.  Here,  you 
little  rascal  —  quit  that !  "  he  broke  off  in  laughing 
reproof  as  a  bushy-tailed  squirrel  leaped  to  his  lap 
and  began  to  nose  in  his  pockets.  "  Gorry,  guess  we'd 
better  give  them  their  dinner  or  they'll  be  tryin'  to  eat 
us/'  chuckled  the  boy.  "  That's  Sir  Lancelot.  He's 
always  first,  you  know." 

From  somewhere  the  'boy  produced  a  small  paste 
board  box  which  he  opened  guardedly,  mindful  of  the 
numberless  bright  little  eyes  that  were  watching  every 
move.  All  about  him  now  sounded  the  whir  and 
flutter  of  wings,  the  cooing  of  doves,  the  saucy  twitter 
of  the  sparrows.  Sir  Lancelot,  alert  and  eager,  oc 
cupied  one  arm  of  the  wheel  chair.  Another  bushy- 
tailed  little  fellow,  less  venturesome,  sat  back  on  his 
haunches  five  feet  away.  A  third  squirrel  chattered 
noisily  on  a  neighboring  tree-branch. 

From  the  box  the  boy  took  a  few  nuts,  a  small  roll, 
and  a  doughnut.  At  the  latter  he  looked  longingly, 
hesitatingly. 

"  Did  you  —  bring  anything?  "  he  asked  then. 

"  Lots  —  in  here,"  nodded  Pollyanna,  tapping  the 
paper  bag  she  carried. 

"  Oh,  then  perhaps  I  will  eat  it  to-day,"  sighed  the 


84  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

boy,  dropping  the  doughnut  back  into  the  box  with  an 
air  of  relief. 

Pollyanna,  on  whom  the  significance  of  this  action 
<was  quite  lost,  thrust  her  fingers  into  her  own  bag, 
and  the  banquet  was  on. 

It  was  a  wonderful  hour.  To  Pollyanna  it  was,  in 
a  way,  the  most  wonderful  hour  she  had  ever  spent, 
for  she  had  found  some  one  who  could  talk  faster  and 
longer  than  she  could.  This  strange  youth  seemed  to 
have  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  marvelous  stories  of 
brave  knights  and  fair  ladies,  of  tournaments  and 
battles.  Moreover,  so  vividly  did  he  draw  his  pic 
tures  that  Pollyanna  saw  with  her  own  eyes  the  deeds 
of  valor,  the  knights  in  armor,  and  the  fair  ladies  with 
their  jeweled  gowns  and  tresses,  even  though  she 
was  really  looking  at  a  flock  of  fluttering  doves  and 
sparrows  and  a  group  of  frisking  squirrels  on  a  wide 
sweep  of  sunlit  grass. 

The  Ladies'  Aiders  were  forgotten.  Even  the  glad 
game  was  not  thought  of.  Pollyanna,  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes  was  trailing  down  the 
golden  ages  led  by  a  romance-fed  boy  who  —  though 
she  did  not  know  it  —  was  trying  to  crowd  into  this 
one  short  hour  of  congenial  companionship  countless 
dreary  days  of  loneliness  and  longing. 

Not  until  the  noon  bells  sent  Pollyanna  hurrying 
homeward  did  she  remember  that  she  did  not  even  yet 
know  the  boy's  name. 

"  I  only  know  it  isn't  '  Sir  James/  "  she  sighed  to 
herself,  frowning  with  vexation.  "  But  never  mind. 
I  can  ask  him  to-morrow." 


IT    WAS    A    WONDERFUL    HOUR. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

JAMIE 

POLLYANNA  did  not  see  the  boy  "  to-morrow."  It 
rained,  and  she  could  not  go  to  the  Garden  at  all.  It 
rained  the  next  day,  too.  Even  on  the  third  day  she 
did  not  see  him,  for,  though  the  sun  came  out  bright 
and  warm,  and  though  she  went  very  early  in  the 
afternoon  to  the  Garden  and  waited  long,  he  did  not 
come  at  all.  But  on  the  fourth  day  he  was  there  in 
his  old  place,  and  Pollyanna  hastened  forward  with  a 
joyous  greeting. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  glad  to  see  you  I  But  where' ve 
you  been?  You  weren't  here  yesterday  at  all." 

"  I  couldn't.  The  pain  wouldn't  let  me  come  yes 
terday,"  explained  the  lad,  who  was  looking  very 
white. 

"  The  pain!  Oh,  does  it  —  ache?  "  stammered  Pol 
lyanna,  all  sympathy  at  once. 

"  Oh,  yes,  always,"  nodded  the  boy,  with  a  cheer 
fully  matter-of-fact  air.  "  Most  generally  I  can  stand 
it  and  come  here  just  the  same,  except  when  it  gets 
too  bad,  same  as  'twas  yesterday.  Then  I  can't." 

"  But  how  can  you  stand  it  —  to  have  it  ache  — 
always  ?  "  gasped  Pollyanna. 

"Why,  I  have  to,"  answered  the  boy,  opening  his 
eyes  a  little  wider.  "  Things  that  are  so  are  so,  and 
they  can't  be  any  other  way.  So  what's  the  use  think- 

85 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


ing  how  they  might  be?  Besides,  the  harder  it  aches 
one  day,  the  nicer  'tis  to  have  it  let-up  the  next." 

"  I  know !  That's  like  the  ga —  "  began  Pollyanna; 
but  the  boy  interrupted  her. 

"Did  you  bring  a  lot  this  time?"  he  asked  anx 
iously.  "  Oh,  I  hope  you  did !  You  see  I  couldn't 
bring  them  any  to-day.  Jerry  couldn't  spare  even  a 
penny  for  peanuts  this  morning  and  there  wasn't 
really  enough  stuff  in  the  box  for  me  this  noon." 

Pollyanna  looked  shocked. 

"  You  mean  —  that  you  didn't  have  enough  to  eat 
—  yourself  ?  —  for  your  luncheon  ?  " 

"Sure!  "smiled  the  boy.  "  But  don't  worry.  Tisn't 
the  first  time — and  'twon't  be  the  last.  I'm  used  to 
it  Hi,  there!  here  comes  Sir  Lancelot." 

Pollyanna,  however,  was  not  thinking  of  squirrels. 

"  And  wasn't  there  any  more  at  home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  there's  never  any  left  at  home,"  laughed 
the  boy.  "  You  see,  mumsey  works  out  —  stairs  and 
washings — -so  she  gets  some  of  her  feed  in  them 
places,  and  Jerry  picks  his  up  where  he  can,  except 
nights  and  mornings;  he  gets  it  with  us  then  —  if 
weVe  got  any." 

Pollyanna  looked  still  more  shocked. 

"  But  what  do  you  do  when  you  don't  have  any 
thing  to  eat?" 

"  Go  hungry,  of  course." 

"  But  I  never  heard  of  anybody  who  didn't  have 
anything  to  eat,"  gasped  Pollyanna.  "  Of  course 
father  and  I  were  poor,  and  we  had  to  eat  beans  and 
fish  balls  when  we  wanted  turkey.  But  we  had  some- 


Jamie  87 


thing.  Why  don't  you  tell  folks  —  all  these  folks 
everywhere,  that  live  in  these  houses  ?  " 

"What's  the  use?" 

"Why,  they'd  give  you  something,  of  course!" 

The  boy  laughed  once  more,  this  time  a  little 
queerly. 

"  Guess  again,  kid.  You've  got  another  one  coming. 
Nobody  I  know  is  dishin'  out  roast  beef  and  frosted 
cakes  for  the  askin'.  Besides,  if  you  didn't  go  hungry 
once  in  a  while,  you  wouldn't  know  haw  good  'taters 
and  milk  can  taste;  and  you  wouldn't  have  so  much 
to  put  in  your  Jolly  Book." 

"Your  what?" 

The  boy  gave  an  embarrassed  laugh  and  grew  sud 
denly  red. 

"  Forget  it !  I  didn't  think,  for  a  minute,  but  you 
was  mumsey  or  Jerry." 

"But  what  is  your  Jolly  Book?"  pleaded  Polly- 
anna.  "  Please  tell  me.  Are  there  knights  and  lords 
and  ladies  in  that?  " 

The  boy  shook  his  head.  His  eyes  lost  their 
laughter  and  grew  dark  and  fathomless. 

"No;  I  wish't  there  was,"  he  sighed  wistfully. 
"  But  when  you  —  you  can't  even  walk,  you  can't  fight 
battles  and  win  trophies,  and  have  fair  ladies  hand 
you  your  sword,  and  bestow  upon  you  the  golden 
guerdon."  A  sudden  fire  came  to  the  boy's  eyes.  His 
chin  lifted  itself  as  if  in  response  to  a  bugle  call. 
Then,  as  suddenly,  the  fire  died,  and  the  boy  fell  back 
into  his  old  listlessness. 

"  You  just  can't  do  nothin',"  he  resumed  wearily, 


88  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

after  a  moment's  silence.  "  You  just  have  to  sit  and 
think ;  and  times*  like  that  your  think  gets  to  be  some 
thing  awful.  Mine  did,  anyhow.  I  wanted  to  go  to 
school  and  learn  things  —  more  things  than  just 
mumsey  can  teach  me;  and  I  thought  of  that.  I 
wanted  to  run  and  play  ball  with  the  other  boys ;  and 
I  thought  of  that.  I  wanted  to  go  out  and  sell  papers 
with  Jerry;  and  I  thought  of  that.  I  didn't  want  to 
be  taken  care  of  all  my  life;  and  I  thought  of  that." 

"  I  know,  oh,  I  know,"  breathed  Pollyanna,  with 
shining  eyes.  "Didn't  I  lose  my  legs  for  a  while?  " 

"  Did  you  ?  Then  you  do  know,  some.  But  you've 
got  yours  again.  I  hain't,  you  know,"  sighed  the  boy, 
the  shadow  in  his  eyes  deepening. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  yet  about  —  the  Jolly 
Book,"  prompted  Pollyanna,  after  a  minute. 

The  boy  stirred  and  laughed  shamefacedly. 

"  Well,  you  see,  it  ain't  much,  after  all,  except  to 
me.  You  wouldn't  see  much  in  it.  I  started  it  a 
year  ago.  I  was  feelin'  'specially  bad  that  day. 
Nothin'  was  right.  For  a  while  I  grumped  it  out, 
just  thinkin';  and  then  I  picked  up  one  of  father's 
books  and  tried  to  read.  And  the  first  thing  I  see 
was  this :  I  learned  it  afterwards,  so  I  can  say  it  now. 

:<  Pleasures  lie  thickest  where  no  pleasures  seem; 
There's  not  a  leaf  that  falls  upon  the  ground 
But  holds  some  joy,  of  silence  or  of  sound.'1 

;<  Well,  I  was  mad.  I  wished  I  could  put  the  guy 
that  wrote  that  in  my  place,  and  see  what  kind  of  joy 

1  Blanchard.     Lyric  Offerings.     Hidden  Joys. 


Jamie  J*9 

he'd  find  in  my  '  leaves.'  I  was  so  mad  I  made  up  my 
mind  I'd  prove  he  didn't  know  what  he  was  talkin' 
about,  so  I  begun  to  hunt  for  'em  —  the  joys  in  my 
*  leaves,'  you  know.  I  took  a  little  old  empty  note 
book  that  Jerry  had  given  me,  and  I  said  to  myself 
that  I'd  write  'em  down.  Everythin'  that  had  any- 
thin'  about  it  that  I  liked  I'd  put  down  in  the  book. 
Then  I'd  just  show  how  many  '  joys '  I  had." 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  cried  Pollyanna,  absorbedly,  as  the 
boy  paused  for  breath. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  expect  to  get  many,  but  —  do  you 
know?  —  I  got  a  lot.  There  was  somethin'  about 
'most  everythin'  that  I  liked  a  little f  so  in  it  had  to 
go.  The  very  first  one  was  the  book  itself  —  that  I'd 
got  it,  you  know,  to  write  in.  Then  somebody  give 
me  a  flower  in  a  pot,  and  Jerry  found  a  dandy  book 
in  the  subway.  After  that  it  was  really  fun  to  hunt 
'em  out  —  I'd  find  'em  in  such  queer  places,  some 
times.  Then  one  day  Jerry  got  hold  of  the  little  note 
book,  and  found  out  what  'twas.  Then  he  give  it  its 
name  —  the  Jolly  Book.  And  —  and  that's  all." 

"  All  —  all! "  cried  Pollyanna,  delight  and  amaze 
ment  struggling  for  the  mastery  on  her  glowing  little 
face.  "  Why,  that's  the  game !  You're  playing  the 
•glad  game,  and  don't  know  it  —  only  you're  playing 
it  ever  and  ever  so  much  better  than  I  ever  could! 
Why,  I  —  I  couldn't  play  it  at  all,  I'm  afraid,  if  I  — 
I  didn't  have  enough  to  eat,  and  couldn't  ever  walk,  or 
anything,"  she  choked. 

"  The  game  ?  What  game  ?  I  don't  know  anything 
about  any  game,"  frowned  the  boy. 


90  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Pollyanna  clapped  her  hands. 

"  I  know  you  don't  —  I  know  you  don't,  and  that's 

why  it's  so  perfectly  lovely,  and  so so  wonderful ! 

But  listen.  I'll  tell  you  what  the  game  is." 

And  she  told  him. 

"  Gee !  "  breathed  the  boy  appreciatively,  when  she 
had  finished.  "  Now  what  do  you  think  of  that !  " 

"  And  here  you  are,  playing  my  game  better  than 
anybody  I  ever  saw,  and  I  don't  even  know  your  name 
yet,  nor  anything !  "  exclaimed  Pollyanna,  in  almost 
awestruck  tones.  "  But  I  want  to;  —  I  want  to  know 
everything." 

"  Pooh !  there's  nothing  to  know,"  rejoined  the  boy, 
with  a  shrug.  "  Besides,  see,  here's  poor  Sir  Lancelot 
and  all  the  rest,  waiting  for  their  dinner,"  he  fin 
ished. 

"  Dear  me,  so  they  are,"  sighed  Pollyanna,  glan 
cing  impatiently  at  the  fluttering  and  chattering  crea 
tures  all  about  them.  Recklessly  she  turned  her  bag- 
upside  down  and  scattered  her  supplies  to  the  four 
winds.  "  There,  now,  that's  done,  and  we  can  talk 
again,"  she  rejoiced.  "  And  there's  such  a  lot  I  want 
to  know.  First,  please,  what  is  your  name?  I  only 
know  it  isn't  '  Sir  James/  ' 

The  boy  smiled. 

"  No,  it  isn't ;  but  that's  what  Jerry  'most  always 
calls  me.  Mumsey  and  the  rest  call  me  '  Jamie.' ' 

" f  Jamie! '  Pollyanna  caught  her  breath  and  held 
it  suspended.  A  wild  hope  had  come  to  her  eyes.  It 
was  followed  almos4:  instantly,  however,  by  fearful 
doubt. 


Jamie  91 


"  Does  *  mumsey  '  mean  —  mother?  " 

"Sure!" 

Pollyanna  relaxed  visibly.  Her  face  fell.  If  this 
Jamie  had  a  mother,  he  could  not,  of  course,  be  Mrs. 
Carew's  Jamie,  whose  mother  had  died  long  agp. 
Still,  even  as  he  was,  he  was  wonderfully  interest 
ing. 

"  But  where  do  you  live?  "  she  catechized  eagerly. 
"  Is  there  anybody  else  in  your  family  but  your  mother 
and  —  and  Jerry?  Do  you  always  come  here  every 
day?  Where  is  your  Jolly  Book?  Mayn't  I  see  it? 
Don't  the  doctors  say  you  can  ever  walk  again  ?  And 
where  was  it  you  said  you  got  it  ?  —  this  wheel  chair, 
I  mean." 

The  boy  chuckled. 

"  Say,  how  many  of  them  questions  do  you  expect 
me  to  answer  all  at  once?  I'll  begin  at  the  last  one, 
anyhow,  and  work  backwards,  maybe,  if  I  don't  for 
get  what  they  be.  I  got  this  chair  a  year  ago.  Jerry 
knew  one  of  them  fellers  what  writes  for  papers,  ypu 
know,  and  he  put  it  in  about  me  —  how  I  couldn't 
ever  walk,  and  all  that,  and  —  and  the  Jolly  Book, 
you  see.  The  first  thing  I  knew,  a  whole  lot  of  men 
and  women  come  one  day  toting  this  chair,  and  said 
'twas  for  me.  That  they'd  read  all  about  me,  and 
they  wanted  me  to  have  it  to  remember  them  by." 

"  My !   how  glad  you  must  have  been  I " 

"  I  was.  It  took  a  whole  page  of  my  Jolly  Book 
to  tell  about  that  chair." 

"  But  can't  you  ever  walk  again?  "  Pollyanna's  eyes 
were  blurred  with  tears. 


92  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  It  don't  look  like  it.     They  said  I  couldn't." 

"  Oh,  but  that's  what  they  said  about  me,  and  then 
they  sent  me  to  Dr.  Ames,  and  I  stayed  'most  a  year ; 
and  he  made  me  walk.  Maybe  he  could  you!" 

The  boy  shook  his  head. 

"  He  couldn't  —  you  see ;  I  couldn't  go  to  him,  any 
way.  'T would  cost  too  much.  We'll  just  have  to  call 
it  that  I  can't  ever  —  walk  again.  But  never  mind." 
The  boy  threw  back  his  head  impatiently.  "I'm  try 
ing  not  to  think  of  that.  You  know  what  it  is  when  — 
when  your  think  gets  to  going." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course  —  and  here  I  am  talking  about 
it !  "  cried  Pollyanna,  penitently.  "  I  said  you  knew 
how  to  play  the  game  better  than  I  did,  now.  But  go 
on.  You  haven't  told  me  half,  yet.  Where  do  you 
live  ?  And  is  Jerry  all  the  brothers  and  sisters  you've 
got?" 

A  swift  change  came  to  the  boy's  face.  His  eyes 
glowed. 

"  Yes  —  and  he  ain't  mine,  really.  He  ain't  any 
relation,  nor  mumsey  ain't,  neither.  And  only  think 
how  good  they've  been  to  me ! " 

"  What's  that  ?  "  questioned  Pollyanna,  instantly 
on  the  alert.  "  Isn't  that  —  that  '  mumsey  '  your 
mother  at  all  ?  " 

"No;    and  that's  what  makes  —  " 

"And  haven't  you  got  any  mother?"  interrupted 
Bollyanna,  in  growing  excitement. 

"No;  I  never  remember  any  mother,  and  father 
died  six  years  ago." 

"  How  old  were  you  ?  " 


Jamie 


"  I  don't  know.  I  was  little.  Mumsey  says  she 
guesses  maybe  I  was  about  six.  That's  when  they 
took  me,  you  see." 

"  And  your  name  is  Jamie?  "  Pollyanna  was  hold 
ing  her  breath. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  told  you  that." 

"And  what's  the  other  name?"  Longingly,  but 
fearfully,  Pollyanna  asked  this  question. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You  don't  knoiv!" 

"  I  don't  remember.  I  was  too-  little,  I  suppose. 
Even  the  Murphys  don't  know.  They  never  knew 
me  as  anything  but  Jamie." 

A  great  disappointment  came  to  Pollyanna's  face, 
but  almost  immediately  a  flash  of  thought  drove  the 
shadow  away. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  if  you  don't  know  what  your  name 
is,  you  can't  know  it  isn't  '  Kent ' !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"'Kent'?"  puzzled  the  boy. 

"  Yes,"  began  Pollyanna,  all  excitement.  "  You 
see,  there  was  a  little  boy  named  Jamie  Kent  that  —  " 
She  stopped  abruptly  and  bit  her  lip.  It  had  occurred 
to  Pollyanna  that  it  would  be  kinder  not  to  let  this 
boy  know  yet  of  her  hope  that  he  might  be  the  lost 
Jamie.  It  would  be  better  that  she  make  sure  of  it 
before  raising  any  expectations,  otherwise  she  might 
be  bringing  him  sorrow  rather  than  joy.  She  had 
not  forgotten  how  disappointed  Jimmy  Bean  had  been 
when  she  had  been  obliged  to  tell  him  that  the  Ladies' 
Aid  did  not  want  him,  and  again  when  at  first  Mr. 
Pendleton  had  not  wanted  him,  either.  She  was  de- 


94  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

termined  that  she  would  not  make  the  same  mistake 
a  third  time;  so  very  promptly  now  she  assumed  an 
air  of  elaborate  indifference  on  this  most  dangerous 
subject,  as  she  said  : 

"  But  never  mind  about  Jamie  Kent.  Tell  me  about 
yourself.  I'm  so  interested !  " 

"  There  isn't  anything  to  tell.  I  don't  know  any 
thing  nice,"  hesitated  the  boy.  "  They  said  father 
was  —  was  queer,  and  never  talked.  They  didn't 
even  know  his  name.  Everybody  called  him  '  The 
Professor.'  Mumsey  says  he  and  I  lived  in  a  little 
back  room  on  the  top  floor  of  the  house  in  Lowell 
where  they  used  to  live.  They  were  poor  then,  but 
they  wasn't  near  so  poor  as  they  are  now.  Jerry's 
father  was  alive  them  days,  and  had  a  job." 

"  Yes,  yes,  go  on,"  prompted  Pollyanna. 

"  Well,  mumsey  says  my  father  was  sick  a  lot,  and 
he  got  queerer  and  queerer,  so  that  they  had  me  down 
stairs  with  them  a  good  deal.  I  could  walk  then,  a 
little,  but  my  legs  wasn't  right.  I  played  with  Jerry, 
and  the  little  girl  that  died.  Well,  when  father  died 
there  wasn't  anybody  to  take  me,  and  some  men  were 
goin'  to  put  me  in  an  orphan  asylum;  but  mumsey 
says  I  took  on  so,  and  Jerry  took  on  so,  that  they  said 
they'd  keep  me.  And  they  did.  The  little  girl  had 
just  died,  and  they  said  I  might  take  her  place.  And 
they've  had  me  ever  since.  And  I  fell  and  got  worse, 
and  they're  awful  poor  now,  too,  besides  Jerry's  father 
dyin'.  But  they've  kept  me.  Now  ain't  that  what  you 
call  bein'  pretty  good  to  a  feller  ?  " 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes,"  cried  Pollyanna.     "  But  they'll  get 


Jamie  95 


their  reward  —  I  know  they'll  get  their  reward !  " 
Pollyanna  was  quivering  with  delight  now.  The  last 
doubt  had  fled.  She  had  found  the  lost  Jamie.  She 
was  sure  of  it.  But  not  yet  must  she  speak.  First 
Mrs.  Carew  must  see  him.  Then  —  then — /  Even 
Pollyanna's  imagination  failed  when  it  came  to  pic 
turing  the  bliss  in  store  for  Mrs.  Carew  and  Jamie  at 
that  glad  reunion. 

She  sprang  lightly  to  her  feet  in  utter  disregard  of 
Sir  Lancelot  who  had  come  back  and  was  nosing  in 
her  lap  for  more  nuts. 

"  I've  got  to  go  now,  but  I'll  come  again  to-morrow. 
Maybe  I'll  have  a  lady  with  me  that  you'll  like  to 
know.  You'll  be  here  to-morrow,  won't  you?"  she 
finished  anxiously. 

"  Sure,  if  it's  pleasant.  Jerry  totes  me  up  here 
'most  every  mornin'.  They  fixed  it  so  he  could,  you 
know;  and  I  bring  my  dinner  and  stay  till  four 
o'clock.  Jerry's  good  to  me  —  he  is !  " 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  nodded  Pollyanna.  "  And 
maybe  you'll  find  somebody  else  to  be  good  to  you, 
too,"  she  caroled.  With  which  cryptic  statement  and 
a  beaming  smile,  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER    IX 

PLANS   AND   PLOTTINGS 

ON  the  way  home  Pollyanna  made  joyous  plans. 
To-morrow,  in  some  way  or  other,  Mrs.  Carew  must 
be  persuaded  to  go  with  her  for  a  walk  in  the  Public 
Garden.  Just  how  this  was  to  be  brought  about  Pol 
lyanna  did  not  know;  but  brought  about  it  must  be. 

To  tell  Mrs.  Carew  plainly  that  she  had  found 
Jamie,  and  wanted  her  to  go  to  see  him,  was  out  of 
the  question.  There  was,  of  course,  a  bare  chance 
that  this  might  not  be  her  Jamie;  and  if  it  were  not, 
and  if  she  had  thus  raised  in  Mrs.  Carew  false  hopes, 
the  result  might  be  disastrous.  Pollyanna  knew,  from 
what  Mary  had  told  her,  that  twice  already  Mrs. 
Carew  had  been  made  very  ill  by  the  great  disappoint 
ment  of  following  alluring  clues  that  had  led  to  some 
boy  very  different  from  her  dead  sister's  son.  So 
Pollyanna  knew  that  she  could  not  tell  Mrs.  Carew 
why  she  wanted  her  to  go  to  walk  to-morrow  in  the 
Public  Garden.  But  there  would  be  a  way,  declared 
Pollyanna  to  herself  as  she  happily  hurried  homeward. 

Fate,  however,  as  it  happened,  once  more  inter 
vened  in  the  shape  of  a  heavy  rainstorm ;  and  Polly 
anna  did  not  have  to  more  than  look  out  of  doors  the 
next  morning  to  realize  that  there  would  be  no  Public 
Garden  stroll  that  day.  Worse  yet,  neither  the  next 

96 


Plans  and  Plottings  97 

day  nor  the  next  saw  the  clouds  dispelled ;  and  Polly- 
anna  spent  all  three  afternoons  wandering  from  win 
dow  to  window,  peering  up  into  the  sky,  and  anxiously 
demanding  of  every  one:  "Don't  you  think  it  looks 
a  little  like  clearing  up?  " 

So  unusual  was  this  behavior  on  the  part  of  the 
cheery  little  girl,  and  so  irritating  was  the  constant 
questioning,  that  at  last  Mrs.  Carew  lost  her  pa 
tience. 

"For  pity's  sake,  child,  what  is  the  trouble?"  she 
cried.  "  I  never  knew  you  to  fret  so  about  the 
weather.  Where's  that  wonderful  glad  game  of  yours 
to-day?" 

Pollyanna  reddened  and  looked  abashed. 

"Dear  me,  I  reckon  maybe  I  did  forget  the  game 
this  time,"  she  admitted.  "  And  of  course  there  is 
something  about  it  I  can  be  glad  for,  if  I'll  only  hunt 
for  it.  I  can  be  glad  that  —  that  it  will  have  to  stop 
raining  sometime  'cause  God  said  he  wouldn't  send 
another  flood.  But  you  see,  I  did  so  want  it  to  be 
pleasant  to-day." 

"Why,  especially?" 

"  Oh,  I  —  I  just  wanted  to  go  to  walk  in  the  Public 
Garden."  Pollyanna  was  trying  hard  to  speak  uncon 
cernedly.  "I  —  I  thought  maybe  you'd  like  to  go  with 
me,  too."  Outwardly  Pollyanna  was  nonchalance  it 
self.  Inwardly,  however,  she  was  aquiver  with  ex 
citement  and  suspense. 

"  /  go  to  walk  in  the  Public  Garden?  "  queried  Mrs. 
Carew,  with  brows  slightly  uplifted.  "  Thank  you, 
no,  I'm  afraid  not,"  she  smiled. 


98  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"Oh,  but  you  —  you  wouldn't  refuse!"  faltered 
Pollyanna,  in  quick  panic. 

"  I  have  refused." 

Pollyanna  swallowed  convulsively.  She  had  grown 
really  pale. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Carew,  please,  please  don't  say  you 
won't  go,  when  it  gets  pleasant,"  she  begged.  "  You 
see,  for  a  —  a  special  reason  I  wanted  you  to  go  — 
with  me  —  just  this  once." 

Mrs.  Carew  frowned.  She  opened  her  lips  to  make 
the  "no"  more  decisive;  but  something  in  Polly- 
anna's  pleading  eyes  must  have  changed  the  words, 
for  when  they  came  they  were  a  reluctant  acquiescence. 

"  Well,  well,  child,  have  your  own  way.  But  if  I 
promise  to  go,  you  must  promise  not  to  go  near  the 
window  for  an  hour,  and  not  to  ask  again  to-day  if  I 
think  it's  going  to  clear  up." 

"  Yes'm,  I  will  —  I  mean,  I  won't,"  palpitated  Pol 
lyanna.  Then,  as  a  pale  shaft  of  light  that  was  almost 
a  sunbeam,  came  aslant  through  the  window,  she  cried 
joyously :  "  But  you  do  think  it  is  going  to  —  Oh !  " 
she  broke  off  in  dismay,  and  ran  from  the  room. 

Unmistakably  it  "  cleared  up  "  the  next  morning. 
But,  though  the  sun  shone  brightly,  there  was  a  sharp 
chill  in  the  air,  and  by  afternoon,  when  Pollyanna 
came  home  from  school,  there  was  a  brisk  wind.  In 
spite  of  protests,  however,  she  insisted  that  it  was  a 
beautiful  day  out,  and  that  she  should  be  perfectly 
miserable  if  Mrs.  Carew  would  not  come  for  a  walk 
in  the  Public  Garden.  And  Mrs.  Carew  went,  though 
still  protesting. 


Plans  and  Plottings  99 

As  might  have  been  expected,  it  was  a  fruitless 
journey.  Together  the  impatient  woman  and  the 
anxious-eyed  little  girl  hurried  shiveringly  up  one  path 
and  down  another.  (Pollyanna,  not  finding  the  boy 
in  his  accustomed  place,  was  making  frantic  search  in 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  Garden.  To  Pollyanna 
it  seemed  that  she  could  not  have  it  so.  Here  she 
was  in  the  Garden,  and  here  with  her  was  Mrs.  Carew ; 
but  not  anywhere  to  be  found  was  Jamie  —  and  yet 
not  one  word  could  she  say  to  Mrs.  Carew.)  At  last, 
thoroughly  chilled  and  exasperated,  Mrs.  Carew  in 
sisted  on  going  home;  and  despairingly  Pollyanna 
went. 

Sorry  days  came  to  Pollyanna  then.  What  to  her 
was  perilously  near  a  second  deluge  —  but  according 
to  Mrs.  Carew  was  merely  "  the  usual  fall  rains  "  — 
brought  a  series  of  damp,  foggy,  cold,  cheerless  days, 
filled  with  either  a  dreary  drizzle  of  rain,  or,  worse 
yet,  a  steady  downpour.  If  perchance  occasionally 
there  came  a  day  of  sunshine,  Pollyanna  always  flew 
to  the  Garden;  but  in  vain.  Jamie  was  never  there. 
It  was  the  middle  of  November  now,  and  even  the 
Garden  itself  was  full  of  dreariness.  The  trees  were 
bare,  the  benches  almost  empty,  and  not  one  boat  was 
on  the  little  pond.  True,  the  squirrels  and  pigeons 
were  there,  and  the  sparrows  were  as  pert  as  ever,  but 
to  feed  them  was  almost  more  of  a  sorrow  than  a  joy, 
for  every  saucy  switch  of  Stir  Lancelot's  feathery  tail 
but  brought  bitter  memories  of  the  lad  who  had  given 
him  his  name  —  and  who  was  not  there. 

"  And  to  think  I  didn't  find  out  where  he  lived! " 


100  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

mourned  Pollyanna  to  herself  over  and  over  again,  as 
the  days  passed.  "  And  he  was  Jamie  —  I  just  know 
he  was  Jamie.  And  now  I'll  have  to  wait  and  wait  till 
spring  comes,  and  it's  warm  enough  for  him  to  come 
here  again.  And  then,  maybe,  /  sha'n't  be  coming 
here  by  that  time.  O  dear,  O  dear  —  and  he  was 
Jamie,  I  know  he  was  Jamie!  " 

Then,  one  dreary  afternoon,  the  unexpected  hap 
pened.  Pollyanna,  passing  through  the  upper  hall 
way  heard  angry  voices  hi  the  hall  below,  one  of 
which  she  recognized  as  being  Mary's,  while  the  other 
—  the  other  — 

The  other  voice  was  saying : 

"  Not  on  yer  life  I  It's  nix  on  the  beggin'  business. 
Do  yer  'get  me?  I  wants  ter  see  the  kid,  Pollyanna. 
I  got  a  message  for  her  from  —  from  Sir  James. 
Now  beat  it,  will  ye,  and  trot  out  the  kid,  if  ye  don't 
mind." 

With  a  glad  little  cry  Pollyanna  turned  and  fairly 
flew  down  the  stairway. 

"Oh,  I'm  here,  I'm  here,  I'm  right  here!"  she 
panted,  stumbling  forward.  "  What  is  it  ?  Did  Jamie 
send  you  ?  " 

In  her  excitement  she  had  almost  flung  herself  with 
outstretched  arms  upon  the  boy  when  Mary  inter 
cepted  a  shocked,  restraining  hand. 

"  Miss  Pollyanna,  Miss  Pollyanna,  do  you  mean  to 
say  you  know  this  —  this  beggar  boy?" 

The  boy  flushed  angrily ;  but  before  he  could  speak 
Pollyanna  interposed  valiant  championship. 

"  He  isn't  a  beggar  boy.    He  belongs  to  one  of  my 


Plans  and  Plottings  101 

very  best  friends.  Besides,  he's  the  one  that  found  me 
and  brought  me  home  that  time  I  was  losi:."-,  Then- 
to  the  boy  she  turned  with  impetuous1' questioning. 
"  What  is  it  ?  Did  Jamie  send  you ?;"  :\! 

•/  /  •     *•»»•»••»         •»•    •»>»>' 

"  Sure  he  did.  He  hit  the  hay  a  month  ago,  and  he 
hain't  been  up  since." 

"  He  hit  —  what?  "  puzzled  Pollyanna. 

"  Hit  the  hay  —  went  ter  bed.  He's  sick,  I  mean, 
and  he  wants  ter  see  ye.  'Will  ye  come?  " 

"Sick?  Oh,  I'm  <so  sorry!"  grieved  Pollyanna. 
"Of  course  I'll  come.  I'll  go  get  my  hat  and  coat 
right  away." 

"Miss  Pollyanna!"  gasped  Mary  in  stern  disap 
proval.  "As  if  Mrs.  Carew  would  let  you  go  —  any 
where  with  a  strange  boy  like  this !  " 

"  But  he  isn't  a  strange  boy,"  objected  Pollyanna. 
"  I've  known  him  ever  so  long,  and  I  must  go.  I  —  " 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  meaning  of  this?  "  de 
manded  Mrs.  Carew  icily  from  the  drawing-room 
doorway.  "  Pollyanna,  who  is  this  boy,  and  what  is 
he  doing  here?  " 

Pollyanna  turned  with  a  quick  cry. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Carew,  you'll  let  me  go,  won't  you?  " 

"Go  where?" 

"  To  see  my  brother,  ma'am,"  cut  in  the  boy  hur 
riedly,  and  with  an  obvious  effort  to  be  very  polite. 
"  He's  sort  of  off  his  feed,  ye  know,  and  he  wouldn't 
give  me  no  peace  till  I  come  up  —  after  her,"  with  an 
awkward  gesture  toward  Pollyanna.  "  He  thinks  a 
sight  an'  all  of  her." 

"  I  may  go,  mayn't  I  ?  "  pleaded  Pollyanna. 


102  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Mrs.  Carew  frowned. 

"  Go  .with  this  boy  —  you?     Certainly  not,  Polly- 
'annaT   I;>wonder  you  are  wild  enough  to  think  of  it 


"  Oh,  but  I  Want  you  to  come,  too,"  began  Polly 
anna. 

"I?  Absurd,  child!  That  is  impossible.  You 
may  give  this  boy  here  a  little  money,  if  you  like, 
but  —  " 

"  Thank  ye,  ma'am,  but  I  didn't  come  for  money," 
resented  the  boy,  his  eyes  flashing.  "  I  come  for  — 
her." 

"  Yes,  and  Mrs.  Carew,  it's  Jerry  —  Jerry  Murphy, 
the  boy  that  found  me  when  I  was  lost,  and  brought 
me  home,"  appealed  Pollyanna.  "  Now  won't  you  let 
me  go?" 

Mrs.  Carew  shook  her  head. 

"  It  is  out  of  the  question,  Pollyanna." 

"  But  he  says  Ja  --  the  other  boy  is  sick,  and 
wants  me  !  " 

"  I  can't  help  that." 

"  And  I  know  him  real  well,  Mrs.  Carew.  I  do, 
truly.  He  reads  books  —  lovely  books,  all  full  of 
knights  and  lords  and  ladies,  and  he  feeds  the  birds 
and  squirrels  and  gives  'em  names,  and  everything. 
And  he  can't  walk,  and  he  doesn't  have  enough  to  eat, 
lots  of  days,"  panted  Pollyanna  ;  "  and  he's  been  play 
ing  my  glad  game  for  a  year,  and  didn't  know  it.  And 
he  plays  it  ever  and  ever  so  much  better  than  I  do.  And 
I've  hunted  and  hunted  for  him,  ever  and  ever  so  many 
days.  Honest  and  truly,  Mrs.  Carew,  I've  just  got  to 


Plans  and  Plottings  103 

see  him,"  almost  sobbed  Pollyanna.    "  I  can't  lose  him 
again! " 

An  angry  color  flamed  into  Mrs.  Carew's  cheeks. 

"  Pollyanna,  this  is  sheer  nonsense.  I  am  surprised. 
I  am  amazed  at  you  for  insisting  upon  doing  some 
thing  you  know  I  disapprove  of.  I  can  not  allow 
you  to  go  with  this  boy.  Now  please  let  me  hear  no 
more  about  it." 

A  new  expression  came  to  Pollyanna' s  face.  With 
a  look  half -terrified,  half-exalted,  she  lifted  her  chin 
and  squarely  faced  Mrs.  Carew.  Tremulously,  but 
determinedly,  she  spoke. 

"  Then  I'll  have  to  tell  you.     I  didn't  mean  to  - 
till  I  was  sure.    I  wanted  you  to  see  him  first.     But 
now  I've  got  to  tell.    I  can't  lose  him  again.    I  think, 
Mrs.  Carew,  he's  —  Jamie." 

"Jamie!  Not  —  my  —  Jamie!"  Mrs.  Carew's 
face  had  grown  very  white. 

"  Yes." 

"Impossible!" 

"  I  know ;  but,  please,  his  name  is  Jamie,  and  he 
doesn't  know  the  other  one.  His  father  died  when 
he  was  six  years  old,  and  he  can't  remember  his 
mother.  He's  twelve  years  old,  he  thinks.  These 
folks  took  him  in  when  his  father  died,  and  his  father 
was  queer,  and  didn't  tell  folks  his  name,  and  - 

But  Mrs.  Carew  had  stopped  her  with  a  gesture. 
Mrs.  Carew  was  even  whiter  than  before,  but  her  eyes 
burned  with  a  sudden  fire. 

"  We'll  go  at  once,"  she  said.  "  Mary,  tell  Perkins 
to  have  the  car  here  as  soon  as  possible.  Pollyanna, 


104  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

get  your  hat  and  coat.  Boy,  wait  here,  please.  We'll 
be  ready  to  go  with  you  immediately."  The  next 
minute  she  had  hurried  up-stairs. 

In  the  hall  the  boy  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Gee  whiz !  "  he  muttered  softly.  "  If  we  ain't 
goin'  ter  go  in  a  buzz-wagon!  Some  class  ter  that! 
Gorry!  what'll  Sir  James  say?" 


CHAPTER   X 
IN  MURPHY'S  ALLEY 

.;  WITH  the  opulent  purr  that  seems  to  be  peculiar 
to  luxurious  limousines,  Mrs.  Carew's  car  rolled  down 
Commonwealth  Avenue  and  out  upon  Arlington  Street 
to  Charles.  Inside  sat  a  shining-eyed  little  girl  and  a 
white-faced,  tense  woman.  Outside,  to  give  directions 
to  the  plainly  disapproving  chauffeur,  sat  Jerry 
Murphy,  inordinately  proud  and  insufferably  im 
portant. 

When  the  limousine  came  to  a  stop  before  a  shabby 
doorway  in  a  narrow,  dirty  alley,  the  boy  leaped  to 
the  ground,  and,  with  a  ridiculous  imitation  of  the 
liveried  pomposities  he  had  so  often  watched,  threw 
open  the  door  of  the  car  and  stood  waiting  for  the 
ladies  to  alight. 

Pollyanna  sprang  out  at  once,  her  eyes  widening 
with  amazement  and  distress  as  she  looked  about  her. 
Behind  her  came  Mrs.  Carew,  visibly  shuddering  as 
her  gaze  swept  the  filth,  the  sordidness,  and  the  ragged 
children  that  swarmed  shrieking  and  chattering  out 
of  the  dismal  tenements,  and  surrounded  the  car  in  a 
second. 

Jerry  waved  his  arms  angrily. 

"Here,  you,  beat  it!"  he  yelled  to  the  motley 
throng.  "  This  ain't  no  free  movies !  Can  that  racket 

105 


106  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

and  get  a  move  on  ye.  Lively,  now !  We  gotta  get 
by.  Jamie's  got  comp'ny." 

Mrs.  Carew  shuddered  again,  and  laid  a  trembling 
hand  on  Jerry's  shoulder. 

"Not  —  here!"  she  recoiled. 

But  the  boy  did  not  hear.  With  shoves  and  pushes 
from  sturdy  fists  and  elbows,  he  was  making  a  path 
for  his  charges;  and  before  Mrs.  Carew  knew  quite 
how  it  was  done,  she  found  herself  with  the  boy  and 
Pollyanna  at  the  foot  of  a  rickety  flight  of  stairs  in  a 
dim,  evil-smelling  hallway. 

Once  more  she  put  out  a  shaking  hand. 

"  Wait,"  she  commanded  huskily.  "  Remember ! 
Don't  either  of  you  say  a  word  about  —  about  his 
being  possibly  the  boy  I'm  looking  for.  I  must  see 
for  myself  first,  and  —  question  him." 

"  Of  course !  "  agreed  Pollyanna. 

"  Sure !  I'm  on,"  nodded  the  boy.  "  I  gotta  go 
right  off  anyhow,  so  I  won't  bother  ye  none.  Now 
toddle  easy  up  these  'ere  stairs.  There's  always  holes, 
and  most  generally  there's  a  kid  or  two  asleep  some- 
wheres.  An'  the  elevator  ain't  runnin'  ter-day,"  he 
gibed  cheerfully.  "  We  gotta  go  ter  the  top,  too!  " 

Mrs.  Carew  found  the  "  holes  "  —  broken  boards 
that  creaked  and  bent  fearsomely  under  her  shrinking 
feet;  and  she  found  one  "kid"  —  a  two-year-old 
baby  playing  with  an  empty  tin  can  on  a  string  which 
he  was  banging  up  and  down  the  second  flight  of 
stairs.  On  all  sides  doors  were  opened,  now  boldly, 
now  stealthily,  but  always  disclosing  women  with 
tousled  heads  or  peering  children  with  dirty  faces. 


In  Murphy's  Alley  107 

Somewhere  a  baby  was  wailing  piteously.  Some 
where  else  a  man  was  cursing.  Everywhere  was  the 
smell  of  bad  whiskey,  stale  cabbage,  and  unwashed 
humanity. 

At  the  top  of  the  third  and  last  stairway  the  boy 
came  to  a  pause  before  a  closed  door. 

"  I'm  just  a-thinkin'  what  Sir  James'll  say  when 
he's  wise  ter  the  prize  package  I'm  bringin'  him,"  he 
whispered  in  a  throaty  voice.  "  I  know  what  mum- 
sey'll  do  —  she'll  turn  on  the  weeps  in  no  time  ter  see 
Jamie  so  tickled."  The  next  moment  he  threw  wide 
the  door  with  a  gay :  "  Here  we  be  —  an'  we  come  in 
a  buzz-wagon!  Ain't  that  goin*  some,  Sir  James?" 

It  was  a  tiny  room,  cold  and  cheerless  and  pitifully 
bare,  but  scrupulously  neat.  There  were  here  no 
tousled  heads,  no  peering  children,  no  odors  of 
whiskey,  cabbage,  and  unclean  humanity.  There  were 
two  beds,  three  broken  chairs,  a  dry-goods-box  table, 
and  a  stove  with  a  faint  glow  of  light  that  told  of  a 
fire  not  nearly  brisk  enough  to  heat  even  that  tiny 
room.  On  one  of  the  beds  lay  a  lad  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  fever-bright  eyes.  Near  him  sat  a  thin, 
white-faced  woman,  bent  and  twisted  with  rheuma 
tism. 

Mrs.  Carew  stepped  into  the  room  and,  as  if  to 
steady  herself,  paused  a  minute  with  her  back  to  the 
wall.  Pollyanna  hurried  forward  with  a  low  cry  just 
as  Jerry,  with  an  apologetic  "  I  gotta  go  now ; 
good-by!  "  dashed  through  the  door. 

"  Oh,  Jamie,  I'm  so  glad  I've  found  you,"  cried 
Pollyanna.  "  You  don't  know  how  I've  looked  and 


108  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

looked  for  you  every  day.  But  I'm  so  sorry  you're 
sick!" 

Jamie  smiled  radiantly  and  held  out  a  thin  white 
hand. 

"  I  ain't  sorry  —  I'm  glad"  he  emphasized  mean 
ingly  ;  "  'cause  it's  brought  you  to  see  me.  Besides, 
I'm  better  now,  anyway.  Mumsey,  this  is  the  little 
girl,  you  know,  that  told  me  the  glad  game  —  and 
mumsey's  playing  it,  too,"  he  triumphed,  turning  back 
to  Pollyanna.  "  First  she  cried  'cause  her  back  hurts 
too  bad  to  let  her  work ;  then  when  I  was  took  worse 
she  was  glad  she  couldn't  work,  'cause  she  could  be 
here  to  take  care  of  me,  you  know." 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Carew  hurried  forward,  her 
eyes  half -fear  fully,  half -longingly  on  the  face  of  the 
lame  boy  in  the  bed. 

"  It's  Mrs.  Carew.  I've  brought  her  to  see  you, 
Jamie,"  introduced  Pollyanna,  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

The  little  twisted  woman  by  the  bed  had  struggled 
to  her  feet  by  this  time,  and  was  nervously  offering 
her  chair.  Mrs.  Carew  accepted  it  without  so  much 
as  a  glance.  Her  eyes  were  still  on  the  boy  in  the  bed. 

"  Your  name  is  —  Jamie?  "  she  asked,  with  visible 
difficulty. 

"  Yes,  ma'am."  The  boy's  bright  eyes  looked 
straight  into  hers. 

"  What  is  your  other  name  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"He  is  not  your  son?"  For  the  first  time  Mrs. 
Carew  turned  to  the  twisted  little  woman  who  was 
still  standing  by  the  bed. 


In  Murphy's  Alley  109 

"  No,  madam." 

"  And  you  don't  know  his  name  ?  " 

"  No,  madam.    I  never  knew  it." 

With  a  despairing  gesture  Mrs.  Carew  turned  back 
to  the  boy. 

"  But  think,  think  —  don't  you  remember  anything 
of  your  name  but  —  Jamie?  " 

The  boy  shook  his  head.  Into  his  eyes  was  coming 
a  puzzled  wonder. 

"  No,  nothing." 

"  Haven't  you  anything  that  belonged  to  your 
father,  with  possibly  his  name  in  it?  " 

"  There  (wasn't  any  thin'  worth  savin'  but  them 
books,"  interposed  Mrs.  Murphy.  "  Them's  his. 
Maybe  you'd  like  to  look  at  'em,"  she  suggested, 
pointing  to  a  row  of  worn  volumes  on  a  shelf  across 
the  room.  Then,  in  plainly  uncontrollable  curiosity, 
she  asked :  "  Was  you  thinkin'  you  knew  him, 
ma'am?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  murmured  Mrs.  Carew,  in  a  half- 
stifled  voice,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  crossed  the 
room  to  the  shelf  of  books. 

There  were  not  many  —  perhaps  ten  or  a  dozen. 
There  was  a  volume  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  an 
"  Ivanhoe,"  a  much-thumbed  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  a 
book  of  miscellaneous  poems,  a  coverless  "  Tennyson," 
a  dilapidated  "  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,"  and  two  or 
three  books  of  ancient  and  medieval  history.  But, 
though  Mrs.  Carew  looked  carefully  through  every 
one,  she  found  nowhere  any  written  word.  With  a 
despairing  sigh  she  turned  back  to  the  boy  and  to  the 


110  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

woman,  both  of  whom  now  were  watching  her  with 
startled,  questioning  eyes. 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  me  —  both  of  you  —  all  you 
know  about  yourselves,"  she  said  brokenly,  dropping 
herself  once  more  into  the  chair  by  the  bed. 

And  they  told  her.  It  was  much  the  same  story  that 
Jamie  had  told  Pollyanna  in  the  Public  Garden. 
There  was  little  that  was  new,  nothing  that  was  sig 
nificant,  in  spite  of  the  probing  questions  that  Mrs. 
Carew  asked.  At  its  conclusion  Jamie  turned  eager 
eyes  on  Mrs.  Carew's  face. 

"Do  you  think  you  knew  —  my  father?"  he 
begged. 

Mrs.  Carew  closed  her  eyes  and  pressed  her  hand 
to  her  head. 

"  I  don't  —  know,"  she  answered.  "  But  I  think  — 
not." 

Pollyanna  gave  a  quick  cry  of  keen  disappointment, 
but  as  quickly  she  suppressed  it  in  obedience  to  Mrs. 
Carew's  warning  glance.  With  new  horror,  however, 
she  surveyed  the  tiny  room. 

Jamie,  turning  his  wondering  eyes  from  Mrs. 
Carew's  face,  suddenly  awoke  to  his  duties  as  host. 

"Wasn't  you  good  to  come!"  he  said  to  Polly 
anna,  gratefully.  "How's  Sir  Lancelot?  Do  you 
ever  go  to  feed  him  now  ?  "  Then,  as  Pollyanna  did 
not  answer  at  once,  he  hurried  on,  his  eyes  going  from 
her  face  to  the  somewhat  battered  pink  in  a  broken- 
necked  bottle  in  the  window.  "  Did  you  see  my 
posy?  Jerry  found  it.  Somebody  dropped  it  and  he 
picked  it  up.  Ain't  it  pretty?  And  it  smells  a  little." 


In  Murphy's  Alley  ill 

But  Pollyanna  did  not  seem  even  to  have  heard 
him.  She  was  still  gazing,  wide-eyed  about  the  room, 
clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands  nervously. 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  you  can  ever  play  the  game 
here  at  all,  Jamie,"  she  faltered.  "  I  didn't  suppose 
there  could  be  anywhere  such  a  perfectly  awful  place 
to  live,"  she  shuddered. 

"  Ho!  "  scoffed  Jamie,  valiantly.  "  You'd  oughter 
see  the  Pikes'  down-stairs.  Theirs  is  a  whole  lot 
worse'n  this.  You  don't  know  what  a  lot  of  nice 
things  there  is  about  this  room.  Why,  we  get  the  sun 
in  that  winder  there  for  'most  two  hours  every  day, 
when  it  shines.  And  if  you  get  real  near  it  you  can 
see  a  whole  lot  of  sky  from  it.  If  we  could  only  keep 
the  room !  —  but  you  see  we've  got  to  leave,  we're 
afraid.  And  that's  what's  worrin'  us." 

"  Leave !  " 

"  Yes.  We  got  behind  on  the  rent  —  mumsey  bein* 
sick  so,  and  not  earnin'  anythin'."  In  spite  of  a  cou 
rageously  cheerful  smile,  Jamie's  voice  shook.  "  Mis' 
Dolan  down-stairs  —  the  woman  what  keeps  my  wheel 
chair  for  me,  you  know  —  is  helpin'  us  out  this  week. 
But  of  course  she  can't  do  it  always,  and  then  we'll 
have  to  go  —  if  Jerry  don't  strike  it  rich,  or  some- 
thin'." 

"Oh,  but  can't  we  —  "  began  Pollyanna. 

She  stopped  short.  Mrs.  Carew  had  risen  to  her 
feet  abruptly  with  a  hurried : 

"  Come,  Pollyanna,  we  must  go."  Then  to  the 
woman  she  turned  wearily.  "  You  won't  have  to  leave. 
I'll  send  you  money  and  food  at  once,  and  I'll  men- 


Polly  anna  Grows  Up 


tion  your  case  to  one  of  the  charity  organizations  in 
which  I  am  interested,  and  they  will  —  " 

In  surprise  she  ceased  speaking.  The  bent  little 
figure  of  the  woman  opposite  had  drawn  itself  almost 
erect.  Mrs.  Murphy's  cheeks  were  flushed.  Her  eyes 
showed  a  smouldering  fire. 

'  Thank  you,  no,  Mrs.  Carew,"  she  said  tremu 
lously,  but  proudly.  "  We're  poor  —  God  knows  ;  but 
we  ain't  charity  folks." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Carew,  sharply.  "  You're 
letting  the  woman  down-stairs  help  you.  This  boy 
said  so." 

"I  know;  but  that  ain't  charity,"  persisted  the 
woman,  still  tremulously.  "  Mrs.  Dolan  is  my  friend. 
She  knows  I'd  do  her  a  good  turn  just  as  quick  —  I 
have  done  'em  for  her  in  times  past.  Help  from 
friends  ain't  charity.  They  care;  and  that  —  that 
makes  a  difference.  We  wa'n't  always  as  we  are  now, 
you  see  ;  and  that  makes  it  hurt  all  the  more  —  all 
this.  Thank  you  ;  but  we  couldn't  take  —  your 
money." 

Mrs.  Carew  frowned  angrily.  It  had  been  a  most 
disappointing,  heart-breaking,  exhausting  hour  for 
her.  Never  a  patient  woman,  she  was  exasperated 
now,  besides  being  utterly  tired  out. 

"  Very  well,  just  as  you  please,"  she  said  coldly. 
Then,  with  vague  irritation  she  added  :  "  But  why 
don't  you  go  to  your  landlord  and  insist  that  he  make 
you  even  decently  comfortable  while  you  do  stay? 
Surely  you're  entitled  to  something  besides  bro 
ken  windows  stuffed  with  rags  and  papers!  And 


In  Murphy's  Alley  113 

those  stairs  that  I   came  up  are   positively  danger 


ous." 


Mrs.  Murphy  sighed  in  a  discouraged  way.  Her 
twisted  little  figure  had  fallen  back  into  its  old  hope 
lessness. 

"  We  have  tried  to  have  something  done,  but  it's 
never  amounted  to  anything.  We  never  see  anybody 
but  the  agent,  of  course;  and  he  says  the  rents  are 
too  low  for  the  owner  to  put  out  any  more  money  on 
repairs." 

"  Nonsense !  "  snapped  Mrs.  Carew,  with  all  the 
sharpness  of  a  nervous,  distraught  woman  who  has 
at  last  found  an  outlet  for  her  exasperation.  "  It's 
shameful!  What's  more,  I  think  it's  a  clear  case  of 
violation  of  the  law;  —  those  stairs  are,  certainly. 
I  shall  make  it  my  business  to  see  that  he's  brought 
to  terms.  What  is  the  name  of  that  agent,  and  who 
is  the  owner  of  this  delectable  establishment?  " 

"I  don't  know  the  name  of  the  owner,  madam; 
but  the  agent  is  Mr.  Dodge." 

"  Dodge !  "  Mrs.  Carew  turned  sharply,  an  odd 
look  on  her  face.  "  You  don't  mean  —  Henry 
Dodge?" 

"  Yes,  madam.     His  name  is  Henry,  I  think." 

A  flood  of  color  swept  into  Mrs.  Carew's  face,  then 
receded,  leaving  it  whiter  than  before. 

"  Very  well,  I  —  I'll  attend  to  it,"  she  murmured, 
in  a  half -stifled  voice,  turning  away.  "  Come,  Polly- 
anna,  we  must  go  now." 

Over  at  the  bed  Pollyanna  was  bidding  Jamie  a  tear 
ful  good-by. 


114  Polly  anna  Grows  Up 

"  But  Fll  come  again.  I'll  come  real  soon,"  she 
promised  brightly,  as  she  hurried  through  the  door 
after  Mrs.  Carew. 

Not  until  they  had  picked  their  precarious  way 
down  the  three  long  flights  of  stairs  and  through  the 
jabbering,  gesticulating  crowd  of  men,  women,  and 
children  that  surrounded  the  scowling  Perkins  and 
the  limousine,  did  Pollyanna  speak  again.  But  then 
she  scarcely  waited  for  the  irate  chauffeur  to  slam 
the  door  upon  them  before  she  pleaded : 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Carew,  please,  please  say  that  it  was 
Jamie !  Oh,  it  would  be  so  nice  for  him  to  be  Jamie." 

"  But  he  isn't  Jamie !  " 

"O  dear!     Are  you  sure?" 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  Mrs.  Carew 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  No,  I'm  not  sure  —  and  that's  the  tragedy  of  it," 
she  moaned.  "  I  don't  think  he  is;  I'm  almost  posi 
tive  he  isn't.  But,  of  course,  there  is  a  chance  —  and 
that's  what's  killing  me." 

"  Then  can't  you  just  think  he's  Jamie,"  begged 
Pollyanna,  "  and  play  he  was?  Then  you  could  take 
him  home,  and  —  "  But  Mrs.  Carew  turned  fiercely. 

"  Take  that  boy  into  my  home  when  he  wasn't 
Jamie?  Never,  Pollyanna!  I  couldn't." 

"  But  if  you  can't  help  Jamie,  I  should  think  you'd 
be  so  glad  there  was  some  one  like  him  you  could 
help,"  urged  Pollyanna,  tremulously.  "  What  if  your 
Jamie  was  like  this  Jamie,  all  poor  and  sick,  wouldn't 
you  want  some  one  to  take  him  in  and  comfort  him, 
and  —  " 


In  Murphy 's  Alley  115 

"  Don't  —  don't,  Pollyanna,"  moaned  Mrs.  Carew, 
turning  her  head  from  side  to  side,  in  a  frenzy  of 
grief.  "  When  I  think  that  maybe,  somewhere,  our 
Jamie  is  like  that  —  "  Only  a  choking  sob  finished 
the  sentence. 

"That's  just  what  I  mean  —  that's  just  what  I 
mean !  "  triumphed  Pollyanna,  excitedly.  "  Don't  you 
see?  If  this  is  your  Jamie,  of  course  you'll  want  him; 
and  if  it  isn't,  you  couldn't  be  doing  any  harm  to  the 
other  Jamie  by  taking  this  one,  and  you'd  do  a  whole 
lot  of  good,  for  you'd  make  this  one  so  happy  —  so 
happy!  And  then,  by  and  by,  if  you  should  find  the 
real  Jamie,  you  wouldn't  have  lost  anything,  but  you'd 
have  made  two  little  boys  happy  instead  of  one; 
and  — "  But  again  Mrs.  Carew  interrupted  her. 

"Don't,  Pollyanna,  don't!  I  want  to  think  —  I 
want  to  think." 

Tearfully  Pollyanna  sat  back  in  her  seat.  By  a 
very  visible  effort  she  kept  still  for  one  whole  minute. 
Then,  as  if  the  words  fairly  bubbled  forth  of  them 
selves,  there  came  this : 

"  Oh,  but  what  an  awful,  awful  place  that  was !  I 
just  wish  the  man  that  owned  it  had  to  live  in  it  him 
self  —  and  then  see  what  he'd  have  to  be  glad  for !  " 

Mrs.  Carew  sat  suddenly  erect.  Her  face  showed  a 
curious  change.  Almost  as  if  in  appeal  she  flung  out 
her  hand  toward  Pollyanna. 

"Don't!"  she  cried.  "Perhaps  — she  didn't 
know,  Pollyanna.  Perhaps  she  didn't  know.  I'm 
sure  she  didn't  know  —  she  owned  a  place  like  that. 
But  it  will  be  fixed  now  —  it  will  be  fixed." 


116  Pollyanna  Grows  Up    , 

"She!  Is  it  a  woman  that  owns  it,  and  do  you 
know  her?  And  do  you  know  the  agent,  too?  " 

"  Yes."  Mrs.  Carew  bit  her  lips.  "  I  know  her, 
and  I  know  the  agent." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad,"  sighed  Pollyanna.  "  Then  it'll 
be  all  right  now." 

"  Well,  it  certainly  will  be  —  better,"  avowed  Mrs. 
Carew  with  emphasis,  as  the  car  stopped  before  her 
own  door. 

Mrs.  Carew  spoke  as  if  she  knew  what  she  was  talk 
ing  about.  And  perhaps,  indeed,  she  did  —  better 
than  she  cared  to  tell  Pollyanna.  Certainly,  before 
she  slept  that  night,  a  letter  left  her  hands  addressed 
to  one  Henry  Dodge,  summoning  him  to  an  immedi 
ate  conference  as  to  certain  changes  and  repairs  to  be 
made  at  once  in  tenements  she  owned.  There  were, 
moreover,  several  scathing  sentences  concerning 
"  rag-stuffed  windows,"  and  "  rickety  stairways,"  that 
caused  this  same  Henry  Dodge  to  scowl  angrily,  and 
to  say  a  sharp  word  behind  his  teeth  —  though  at  the 
same  time  he  paled  with  something  very  like  fear. 


CHAPTER    XI 

A    SURPRISE   FOR    MRS.    CAREW 

THE  matter  of  repairs  and  improvements  having 
been  properly  and  efficiently  attended  to,  Mrs.  Carew 
told  herself  that  she  had  done  her  duty,  and  that  the 
matter  was  closed.  She  would  forget  it.  The  boy 
was  not  Jamie  —  he  could  not  be  Jamie.  That  igno 
rant,  sickly,  crippled  boy  her  dead  sister's  son?  Im 
possible!  She  would  cast  the  whole  thing  from  her 
thoughts. 

It  was  just  here,  however,  that  Mrs.  Carew  found 
herself  against  an  immovable,  impassable  barrier :  the 
whole  thing  refused  to  be  cast  from  her  thoughts. 
Always  before  her  eyes  was  the  picture  of  that  bare 
little  room  and  the  wistful- faced  boy.  Always  in  her 
ears  was  that  heartbreaking  "  What  if  it  were  Jamie  ?  " 
And  always,  too,  there  was  Pollyanna;  for  even 
though  Mrs.  Carew  might  (as  she  did)  silence  the 
pleadings  and  questionings  of  the  little  girl's  tongue, 
there  was  no  getting  away  from  the  prayers  and  re 
proaches  of  the  little  girl's  eyes. 

Twice  again  in  desperation  Mrs.  Carew  went  to  see 
the  boy,  telling  herself  each  time  that  only  another 
visit  was  needed  to  convince  her  that  the  boy  was  not 
the  one  she  sought.  But,  even  though  while  there  in 

117 


118  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

the  boy's  presence,  she  told  herself  that  she  was  con 
vinced,  once  away  from  it,  the  old,  old  questioning 
returned.  At  last,  in  still  greater  desperation, 
she  wrote  to  her  sister,  and  told  her  the  whole 
story. 

"  I  had  not  meant  to  tell  you,"  she  wrote,  after  she 
had  stated  the  bare  facts  of  the  case.  "  I  thought  it 
a  pity  to  harrow,  you  up,  or  to  raise  false  hopes.  I 
am  so  sure  it  is  not  he  —  and  yet,  even  as  I  write  these 
words,  I  know  I  am  not  sure.  That  is  why  I  want 
you  to  come  —  why  you  must  come.  I  must  have  you 
see  him. 

"I  wonder  —  oh,  I  wonder  what  you'll  sayl  Of 
course  we  haven't  seen  our  Jamie  since  he  was  four 
years  old.  He  would  be  twelve  now.  This  boy  is 
twelve,  I  should  judge.  (He  doesn't  know  his  age.) 
He  has  hair  and  eyes  not  unlike  our  Jamie's.  He  is 
crippled,  but  that  condition  came  upon  him  through  a 
fall,  six  years  ago,  and  was  made  worse  through  an 
other  one  four  years  later.  Anything  like  a  complete 
description  of  his  father's  appearance  seems  impos 
sible  to  obtain ;  but  what  I  have  learned  contains  noth 
ing  conclusive  either  for  or  against  his  being  poor 
Doris's  husband.  He  was  called  '  the  Professor,'  was 
very  queer,  and  seemed  to  own  nothing  save  a  few 
books.  This  might,  or  might  not  signify.  John  Kent 
was  certainly  always  queer,  and  a  good  deal  of  a 
Bohemian  in  his  tastes.  Whether  he  cared  for  books 
or  not  I  don't  remember.  Do  you?  And  of  course 
the  title  '  Professor '  might  easily  have  been  assumed, 
if  he  wished,  or  it  might  have  been  merely  given  him 


A  Surprise  for  Mrs.  Oarew          119 

by  others.     As  for  this  boy  —  I  don't  know,  I  don't 
know  —  but  I  do  hope  you  will ! 

"  Your  distracted  sister, 

"  RUTH." 

Delia  came  at  once,  and  she  went  immediately  to 
see  the  boy ;  but  she  did  not  "  know."  Like  her  sister, 
she  said  she  did  not  think  it  was  their  Jamie,  but  at 
the  same  time  there  was  that  chance  —  it  might  be  he, 
after  all.  Like  Pollyanna,  however,  she  had  what 
she  thought  was  a  very  satisfactory  way  out  of  the 
dilemma. 

"But  why  don't  you  take  him,  dear?"  she  pro 
posed  to  her  sister.  "  Why  don't  you  take  him  and 
adopt  him  ?  It  would  be  lovely  for  him  —  poor  little 
fellow  —  and  —  "  But  Mrs.  Carew  shuddered  and 
would  not  even  let  her  finish. 

"  No,  no,  I  can't,  I  can't !  "  she  moaned.  "  I  want 
my  Jamie,  my  own  Jamie  —  or  no  one."  And  with  a 
sigh  Delia  gave  it  up  and  went  back  to  her  nursing. 

If  Mrs.  Carew  thought  that  this  closed  the  matter, 
however,  she  was  again  mistaken;  for  her  days  were 
still  restless,  and  her  nights  were  still  either  sleepless 
or  filled  with  dreams  of  a  "  may  be  "  or  a  "  might 
be  "  masquerading  as  an  "  it  is  so."  She  was,  more 
over,  having  a  difficult  time  with  Pollyanna. 

Pollyanna  was  puzzled.  She  was  filled  with  ques 
tionings  and  unrest.  For  the  first,  time  in  her  life 
Pollyanna  had  come  face  to  face  with  real  poverty. 
She  knew  people  who  did  not  have  enough  to  eat, 
who  wore  ragged  clothing,  and  who  lived  in  dark, 


120  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

dirty,  and  very  tiny  rooms.  Her  first  impulse,  of 
course,  had  been  "  to  help."  With  Mrs.  Carew  she 
made  two  visits  to  Jamie,  and  greatly  did  she  rejoice 
at  the  changed  conditions  she  found  there  after  "  that 
man  Dodge"  had  "tended  to  things."  But  this,  to 
Pollyanna,  was  a  mere  drop  in  the  bucket.  There 
were  yet  all  those  other  sick-looking  men,  unhappy- 
looking  women,  and  ragged  children  out  in  the  street 

—  Jamie's  neighbors.    Confidently  she  looked  to  Mrs. 
Carew  for  help  for  them,  also. 

"  Indeed ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carew,  when  she 
learned  what  was  expected  of  her,  "  so  you  want  the 
whole  street  to  be  supplied  with  fresh  paper,  paint, 
and  new  stairways,  do  you?  Pray,  is  there  anything 
else  you'd  like?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  lots  of  things,"  sighed  Pollyanna,  hap 
pily.  :<  You  see,  there  are  so  many  things  they  need 

—  all  of  them!    And  what  fun  it  will  be  to  get  them! 
How  I  wish  I  was  rich  so  I  could  help,  too;   but  I'm 
'most  as  glad  to  be  with  you  when  you  get  them." 

Mrs.  Carew  quite  gasped  aloud  in  her  amazement. 
She  lost  no  time  —  though  she  did  lose  not  a  little 
patience  —  in  explaining  that  she  had  no  intention  of 
doing  anything  further  in  "  Murphy's  Alley,"  and  that 
there  was  no  reason  why  she  should.  No  one  would 
expect  her  to.  She  had  canceled  all  possible  obliga 
tions,  and  had  even  been  really  very  generous,  any 
one  would  say,  in  what  she  had  done  for  the  tenement 
where  lived  Jamie  and  the  Murphys.  (That  she 
owned  the  tenement  building  she  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  state.)  At  some  length  she  explained  to 


A  Surprise  for  Mrs.  Carew 


Pollyanna  that  there  were  charitable  institutions,  both 
numerous  and  efficient,  whose  business  it  was  to  aid 
all  the  worthy  poor,  and  that  to  these  institutions  she 
gave  frequently  and  liberally. 

Even  then,  however,  Pollyanna  was  not  con 
vinced. 

"  But  I  don't  see,"  she  argued,  "  why  it's  any  better, 
or  even  so  nice,  for  a  whole  lot  of  folks  to  club  to 
gether  and  do  what  everybody  would  like  to  do  for 
themselves.  I'm  sure  I'd  much  rather  give  Jamie  a  — 
a  nice  book,  now,  than  to  have  some  old  Society  do 
it;  and  I  know  he'd  like  better  to  have  me  do  it, 
too." 

"  Very  likely,"  returned  Mrs.  Carew,  with  some 
weariness  and  a  little  exasperation.  "  But  it  is  just 
possible  that  it  would  not  be  so  well  for  Jamie  as  — 
as  if  that  book  were  given  by  a  body  of  people  who 
knew  what  sort  of  one  to  select." 

This  led  her  to  say  much,  also  (none  of  which  Pol 
lyanna  in  the  least  understood),  about  "  pauperizing 
the  poor,"  the  "  evils  of  indiscriminate  giving,"  and 
the  "  pernicious  effect  of  unorganized  charity." 

"  Besides,"  she  added,  in  answer  to  the  still  per 
plexed  expression  on  Pollyanna's  worried  little  face, 
"very  likely  if  I  offered  help  to  these  people  they 
would  not  take  it.  You  remember  Mrs.  Murphy  de 
clined,  at  the  first,  to  let  me  send  food  and  clothing  — 
though  they  accepted  it  readily  enough  from  their 
neighbors  on  the  first  floor,  it  seems." 

'  Yes,  I  know,"  sighed  Pollyanna,  turning  away. 
"  There's  something  there  somehow  that  I  don't  un- 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


derstand.  But  it  doesn't  seem  right  that  we  should 
have  such  a  lot  of  nice  things,  and  that  they  shouldn't 
have  anything,  hardly." 

As  the  days  passed,  this  feeling  on  the  part  of  Pol 
lyanna  increased  rather  than  diminished  ;  and  the 
questions  she  asked  and  the  comments  she  made  were 
anything  but  a  relief  to  the  state  of  mind  in  which 
Mrs.  Carew  herself  was.  Even  the  test  of  the  glad 
game,  in  this  case,  Pollyanna  was  finding  to  be  very 
rear  a  failure;  for,  as  she  expressed  it: 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  find  anything  about  this 
poor-people  business  to  be  glad  for.  Of  course  we 
can  be  glad  for  ourselves  that  we  aren't  poor  like 
them;  but  whenever  I'm  thinking  how  glad  I  am  for 
that,  I  get  so  sorry  for  them  that  I  can't  be  glad  any 
longer.  Of  course  we  could  be  glad  there  were  poor 
folks,  because  we  could  help  them.  But  if  we  don't 
help  them,  where's  the  glad  part  of  that  coming  in?  " 
And  to  this  Pollyanna  could  find  no  one  who  could 
give  her  a  satisfactory  answer. 

Especially  she  asked  this  question  of  Mrs.  Carew; 
and  Mrs.  Carew,  still  haunted  by  the  visions  of  the 
Jamie  that  was,  and  the  Jamie  that  might  be,  grew 
only  more  restless,  more  wretched,  and  more  utterly 
despairing.  Nor  was  she  helped  any  by  the  approach 
of  Christmas.  Nowhere  was  there  glow  of  holly  or 
flash  of  tinsel  that  did  not  carry  its  pang  to  her;  for 
always  to  Mrs.  Carew  it  but  symbolized  a  child's 
empty  stocking  —  a  stocking  that  might  be  —  Ja 
mie's. 

Finally,  a  week  before  Christmas,  she  fought  what 


A  Surprise  for  Mrs.  Carew          123 

she  thought  was  the  last  battle  with  herself.  Reso 
lutely,  but  with  no  real  joy  in  her  face,  she  gave  terse 
orders  to  Mary,  and  summoned  Pollyanna. 

"  Pollyanna,"  she  began,  almost  harshly,  "  I  have 
decided  to  —  to  take  Jamie.  The  car  will  be  here  at 
once.  I'm  going  after  him  now,  and  bring  him  home. 
You  may  come  with  me  if  you  like." 

A  great  light  transfigured  Pollyanna's  face. 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh,  how  glad  I  am ! "  she  breathed. 
"  Why,  I'm  so  glad  I  —  I  want  to  cry !  Mrs.  Carew, 
why  is  it,  when  you're  the  very  gladdest  of  anything, 
you  always  want  to  cry  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  Pollyanna,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Carew,  abstractedly.  On  Mrs.  Carew's  face  there 
was  still  no  look  of  joy. 

Once  in  the  Murphys'  little  one-room  tenement,  it 
did  not  take  Mrs.  Carew  long  to  tell  her  errand.  In 
a  few  short  sentences  she  told  the  story  of  the  lost 
Jamie,  and  of  her  first  hopes  that  this  Jamie  might  be 
he.  She  made  no  secret  of  her  doubts  that  he  was 
the  one;  at  the  same  time,  she  said  she  had  decided 
to  take  him  home  with  her  and  give  him  every  pos 
sible  advantage.  Then,  a  little  wearily,  she  told  what 
were  the  plans  she  had  made  for  him. 

[At  tlie  foot  of  the  bed  Mrs.  Murphy  listened,  cry 
ing  softly.  Across  the  room  Jerry  Murphy,  his  eyes 
dilating,  emitted  an  occasional  low  "  Gee !  Can  ye  beat 
that,  now?  "  As  to  Jamie  —  Jamie,  on  the  bed,  had 
listened  at  first  with  the  air  of  one  to  whom  suddenly 
a  door  has  opened  into  a  longed-for  paradise;  but 
gradually,  as  Mrs.  Carew  talked,  a  new  look  came  to 


124  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

his  eyes.  Very  slowly  he  closed  them,  and  turned 
away  his  face. 

When  Mrs.  Carew  ceased  speaking  there  was  a 
long  silence  before  Jamie  turned  his  head  and  an 
swered.  They  saw  then  that  his  face  was  very  white, 
and  that  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Carew,  but  —  I  can't  go,"  he 
said  simply. 

"  You  can't  —  what?  "  cried  Mrs.  Carew,  as  if  she 
doubted  the  evidence  of  her  own  ears. 

"  Jamie !  "  gasped  Pollyanna. 

"  Oh,  come,  kid,  what's  eatin'  ye?"  scowled  Jerry, 
hurriedly  coming  forward.  "  Don't  ye  know  a  good 
thing  when  ye  see  it  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  can't  —  go,"  said  the  crippled  boy, 
again. 

"  But,  Jamie,  Jamie,  think,  think  what  it  would 
mean  to  you!  "  quavered  Mrs.. Murphy,  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed. 

"  I  am  a-thinkin',"  choked  Jamie.  "  Don't  you 
suppose  I  know  what  I'm  doin'  —  what  I'm  givin' 
up  ?  "  Then  to  Mrs.  Carew  he  turned  tear-wet  eyes. 
"  I  can't,"  he  faltered.  "  I  can't  let  you  do  all  that 
for  me.  If  you  —  cared  it  would  be  different.  But 
you  don't  care  —  not  really.  You  don't  want  me  — 
not  me.  You  want  the  real  Jamie,  and  I  ain't  the  real 
Jamie.  You  don't  think  I  am.  I  can  see  it  in  your 
face." 

"  I  know.  But  —  but  —  "  began  Mrs.  Carew,  help 
lessly. 

"  And  it  isn't  as  if  —  as  if  I  was  like  other  boys, 


A  Surprise  for  Mrs.  Carew          125 

and  could  walk,  either,"  interrupted  the  cripple,  fever 
ishly.  "  You'd  get  tired  of  me  in  no  time.  And  I'd 
see  it  comin'.  I  couldn't  stand  it  —  to  be  a  burden 
like  that.  Of  course,  if  you  cared  —  like  mumsey 
here  —  "  He  threw  out  his  hand,  choked  back  a  sob, 
then  turned  his  head  away  again.  "  I'm  not  the  Jamie 
you  want.  I  —  can't  —  go,"  he  said.  With  the  words 
his  thin,  boyish  hand  fell  clenched  till  f'«e  knuckles 
showed  white  against  the  tattered  old  shawi  that  cov 
ered  the  bed. 

There  was  a  moment's  breathless  hush,  then,  very 
quietly,  Mrs.  Carew  got  to  her  feet.  Her  face  was 
colorless ;  but  there  was  that  in  it  that  silenced  the  sob 
that  rose  to  Pollyanna's  lips. 

"  Come,  Pollyanna,"  was  all  she  said. 

"  Well,  if  you  ain't  the  fool  limit!  "  babbled  Jerry 
Murphy  to  the  boy  on  the  bed,  as  the  door  closed  a 
moment  later. 

But  the  boy  on  the  bed  was  crying  very  much  as  if 
the  closing  door  had  been  the  one  that  had  led  to 
paradise  —  and  that  had  closed  now  forever. 


CHAPTER   XII 

FROM    BEHIND    A    COUNTER 

MRS.  CAREW  was  very  angry.  To  have  brought 
herself  to  the  point  where  she  was  willing  to  take  this 
lame  boy  into  her  home,  and  then  to  have  the  lad 
calmly  refuse  to  come,  was  unbearable.  Mrs.  Carew 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  having  her  invitations  ignored, 
or  her  wishes  scorned.  Furthermore,  now  that  she 
could  not  have  the  boy,  she  was  conscious  of  an  al 
most  frantic  terror  lest  he  were,  after  all,  the  real 
Jamie.  She  knew  then  that  her  true  reason  for  want 
ing  him  had  been  —  not  because  she  cared  for  him, 
not  even  because  she  wished  to  help  him  and  make 
him  happy  —  but  because  she  hoped,  by  taking  him, 
that  she  would  ease  her  own  mind,  and  forever  silence 
that  awful  eternal  questioning  on  her  part :  "  What  if 
he  were  her  own  Jamie?" 

It  certainly  had  not  helped  matters  any  that  the  boy 
had  divined  her  state  of  mind,  and  had  given  as  the 
reason  for  his  refusal  that  she  "  did  not  care."  To  be 
sure,  Mrs.  Carew  now  very  proudly  told  herself  that 
she  did  not  indeed  "  care,"  that  he  was  not  her  sister's 
boy,  and  that  she  would  "  forget  all  about  it." 

But  she  did  not  forget  all  about  it.  However  in 
sistently  she  might  disclaim  responsibility  and  rela 
tionship,  just  as  insistently  responsibility  and  relation- 

123 


Prom  Behind  a  Counter  127 

ship  thrust  themselves  upon  her  in  the  shape  of 
panicky  doubts;  and  however  resolutely  she  turned 
her  thoughts  to  other  matters,  just  so  resolutely  visions 
of  a  wistful-eyed  boy  in  a  poverty-stricken  room 
loomed  always  before  her. 

Then,  too,  there  was  Pollyanna.  Clearly  Pollyanna 
was  not  herself  at  all.  In  a  most  unPollyanna-like 
spirit  she  moped  about  the  house,  finding  apparently 
no  interest  anywhere. 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not  sick/'  she  would  answer,  when 
remonstrated  with,  and  questioned. 

"  But  what  is  the  trouble?  " 

"  Why,  nothing.  It  —  it's  only  that  I  was  thinking 
of  Jamie,  you  know,  —  how  he  hasn't  got  all  these 
beautiful  things  —  carpets,  and  pictures,  and  cur 
tains." 

It  was  the  same  with  her  food.  Pollyanna  was  ac 
tually  losing  her  appetite;  but  here  again  she  dis 
claimed  sickness. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  would  sigh  mournfully.  "  It's  just 
that  I  don't  seem  hungry.  Some  way,  just  as  soon  as 
I  begin  to  eat,  I  think  of  Jamie,  and  how  he  doesn't 
have  only  old  doughnuts  and  dry  rolls ;  and  then  I  — 
I  don't  want  anything." 

Mrs.  Carew,  spurred  by  a  feeling  that  she  herself 
only  dimly  understood,  and  recklessly  determined  to 
bring  about  some  change  in  Pollyanna  at  all  costs, 
ordered  a  huge  tree,  two  dozen  wreaths,  and  quan 
tities  of  holly  and  Christmas  baubles.  For  the  first 
time  in  many  years  the  house  was  aflame  and  aglitter 
with  scarlet  and  tinsel.  There  was  even  to  be  a  Christ- 


128  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

mas  party,  for  Mrs.  Carew  had  told  Pollyanna  to  in 
vite  half  a  dozen  of  her  schoolgirl  friends  for  the  tree 
on  Christmas  Eve. 

But  even  here  Mrs.  Carew  met  with  disappoint 
ment;  for,  though  Pollyanna  was  always  grateful, 
and  at  times  interested  and  even  excited,  she  still  car 
ried  frequently  a  sober  little  face.  And  in  the  end 
the  Christmas  party  was  more  of  a  sorrow  than  a  joy; 
for  the  first  glimpse  of  the  glittering  tree  sent  her  into 
a  storm  of  sobs. 

"  Why,  Pollyanna ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Carew. 
"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  now  ?  " 

"  N-n-nothing,"  wept  Pollyanna.  "  It's  only  that 
it's  so  perfectly,  perfectly  beautiful  that  I  just  had  to 
cry.  I  was  thinking  how  Jamie  would  love  to  see  it." 

It  was  then  that  Mrs.  Carew's  patience  snapped. 

tf '  Jamie,  Jamie,  Jamie  ' !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Pol 
lyanna,  can't  you  stop  talking  about  that  boy?  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  it  is  not  my  fault  that  he  is 
not  here.  I  asked  him  to  come  here  to  live.  Besides, 
where  is  that  glad  game  of  yours?  I  think  it  would 
be  an  excellent  idea  if  you  would  play  it  on  this." 

"  I  am  playing  it,"  quavered  Pollyanna.  "  And 
that's  what  I  don't  understand.  I  never  knew  it  to 
act  so  funny.  Why,  before,  when  I've  been  glad  about 
things,  I've  been  happy.  But  now,  about  Jamie  —  I'm 
so  glad  I've  got  carpets  and  pictures  and  nice  things 
to  eat,  and  that  I  can  walk  and  run,  and  go  to  school, 
and  all  that;  but  the  harder  I'm  glad  for  myself,  the 
sorrier  I  am  for  him.  I  never  knew  the  game  to  act 
so  funny,  and  I  don't  know  what  ails  it.  Do  you?" 


From  Behind  a  Counter  129 

But  Mrs.  Carew,  with  a  despairing  gesture,  merely, 
turned  away  without  a  word. 

It  was  the  day  after  Christmas  that  something  so 
wonderful  happened  that  Pollyanna,  for  a  time,  almost 
forgot  Jamie.  Mrs.  Carew  had  taken  her  shopping, 
and  it  was  while  Mrs.  Carew  was  trying  to  decide  be 
tween  a  duchesse-lace  and  a  point-lace  collar,  that  Pol 
lyanna  chanced  to  spy  farther  down  the  counter  a  face 
that  looked  vaguely  familiar.  For  a  moment  she  re 
garded  it  frowningly;  then,  with  a  little  cry,  she  ran 
down  the  aisle. 

"  Oh,  it's  you  —  it  is  you !  "  she  exclaimed  joyously 
to  a  girl  who  was  putting  into  the  show  case  a  tray 
of  pink  bows.  "  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you !  " 

The  girl  behind  the  counter  lifted  her  head  and 
stared  at  Pollyanna  in  amazement.  But  almost  imme 
diately  her  dark,  somber  face  lighted  with  a  smile  of 
glad  recognition. 

"  Well,  well,  if  it  isn't  my  little  Public  Garden- 
kiddie !  "  she  ejaculated. 

"  Yes.  I'm  so  glad  you  remembered/'  beamed 
Pollyanna.  "  But  you  never  came  again.  I  looked 
for  you  lots  of  times." 

"  I  couldn't.  I  had  to  work.  That  was  our  last 
half-holiday,  and —  Fifty  cents,  madam,"  she  broke 
off,  in  answer  to  a  sweet-faced  old  lady's  question  as 
to  the  price  of  a  black-and-white  bow  on  the  counter. 

"Fifty  cents?  Hm-m!"  The  old  lady  finger  tl 
the  bow,  hesitated,  then  laid  it  down  with  a  sigh. 
"  Hm,  yes ;  well,  it's  very  pretty,  I'm  sure,  my  dear/' 
she  said,  as  she  passed  on. 


130  PoUyanna  Grows  Up 

Immediately  behind  her  came  two  bright-faced  girls 
who,  with  much  giggling  and  bantering,  picked  out  a 
jeweled  creation  of  scarlet  velvet,  and  a  fairy-like 
structure  of  tulle  and  pink  buds.  As  the  girls  turned 
chattering  away  Pollyanna  drew  an  ecstatic  sigh. 

"  Is  this  what  you  do  all  day?  My,  how  glad  you 
must  be  you  chose  this !  " 

"  Glad! " 

"  Yes.  It  must  be  such  fun  —  such  lots  of  folks, 
you  know,  and  all  different!  And  you  can  talk  to 
'em.  You  have  to  talk  to  'em  —  it's  your  business. 
I  should  love  that.  I  think  I'll  do  this  when  I  grow 
up.  It  must  be  such  fun  to  see  what  they  all 
buy!" 

"  Fun !  Glad !  "  bristled  the  girl  behind  the  counter. 
"  Well,  child,  I  guess  if  you  knew  half  —  That's  a 
dollar,  madam,"  she  interrupted  herself  hastily,  in 
answer  to  a  young  woman's  sharp  question  as  to  the 
price  of  a  flaring  yellow  bow  of  beaded  velvet  in  the 
show  case. 

"  Well,  I  should  think  'twas  time  you  told  me," 
snapped  the  young  woman.  "  I  had  to  ask  you 
twice." 

The  girl  behind  the  counter  bit  her  lip. 

"  I  didn't  hear  you,  madam." 

"I  can't  help  that.  It  is  your  business  to  hear. 
You  are  paid  for  it,  aren't  you?  How  much  is  that 
black  one?" 

"  Fifty  cents." 

"And  that  blue  one?" 

"  One  dollar." 


From  Behind  a  Counter  131 

"  No  impudence,  miss !  You  needn't  be  so  short 
about  it,  or  I  shall  report  you.  Let  me  see  that  tray 
of  pink  ones." 

The  salesgirl's  lips  opened,  then  closed  in  a  thin, 
straight  line.  Obediently  she  reached  into  the  show 
case  and  took  out  the  tray  of  pink  bows;  but  her  eyes 
flashed,  and  her  hands  shook  visibly  as  she  set  the 
tray  down  on  the  counter.  The  young  woman  whom 
she  was  serving  picked  up  five  bows,  asked  the  price 
of  four  of  them,  then  turned  away  with  a  brief : 

"  I  see  nothing  I  care  for." 

"  Well,"  said  the  girl  behind  the  counter,  in  a  sha 
king  voice,  to  the  wide-eyed  Polly  anna,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  my  business  now?  Anything  to  be  glad  about 
there?"' 

Pollyanna  giggled  a  little  hysterically. 

"  My,  wasn't  she  cross  ?  But  she  was  kind  of 
funny,  too  —  don't  you  think?  Anyhow,  you  can 
be  glad  that  —  that  they  aren't  all  like  her,  can't 
you?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  faint  smile. 
"  But  I  can  tell  you  right  now,  kiddie,  that  glad  game 
of  yours  you  was  tellin'  me  about  that  day  in  the 
Garden  may  be  all  very  well  for  you;  but  —  "  Once 
more  she  stopped  with  a  tired :  "  Fifty  cents,  madam," 
in  answer  to  a  question  from  the  other  side  of  the 
counter. 

"  Are  you  as  lonesome  as  ever  ?  "  asked  Pollyanna 
wistfully,  when  the  salesgirl  was  at  liberty  again. 

"Well,  I  can't  say  I've  given  more'n  five  parties, 
nor  been  to  more'n  seven,  since  I  saw  you,"  replied 


132  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

the  girl  so  bitterly  that  Pollyanna  detected  the  sar 
casm. 

"  Oh,  but  you  did  something  nice  Christmas,  didn't 
you?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  stayed  in  bed  all  day  with  my  feet  done 
up  in  rags  and  read  four  newspapers  and  one  maga 
zine.  Then  at  night  I  hobbled  out  to  a  restaurant 
where  I  had  to  blow  in  thirty-five  cents  for  chicken 
pie  instead  of  a  quarter." 

"  But  what  ailed  your  feet  ?  " 

"  Blistered.     Standin'  on  'em  —  Christmas  rush.'* 

"  Oh ! "  shuddered  Pollyanna,  sympathetically. 
"  And  you  didn't  have  any  tree,  or  party,  or  any 
thing?"  she  cried,  distressed  and  shocked. 

"Well,  hardly!" 

"  O  dear !  How  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  mine !  " 
sighed  the  little  girl.  "  It  was  just  lovely,  and  — 
But,  oh,  say ! "  she  exclaimed  joyously.  "  You  can 
see  it,  after  all.  It  isn't  gone  yet.  Now,  can't  you 
come  out  to-night,  or  to-morrow  night,  and  - 

"  Pollyanna!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Carew  in  her  chilli 
est  accents.  "What  in  the  world  does  this  mean? 
Where  have  you  been  ?  I  have  looked  everywhere  for 
you.  I  even  went  'way  back  to  the  suit  department." 

Pollyanna  turned  with  a  happy  little  cry. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Carew,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  she 
rejoiced.  "  This  is  —  well,  I  don't  know  her  name 
yet,  but  I  know  her,  so  it's  all  right.  I  met  her  in  the 
Public  Garden  ever  so  long  ago.  And  she's  lonesome, 
and  doesn't  know  anybody.  And  her  father  was  a 
minister  like  mine,  only  he's  alive.  And  she  didn't 


'  I    DON'T    KNOW    TIER    NAME    YET,    BUT    I    KNOW  HER,   SO 
IT'S    ALL    RIGHT.'  " 


From  Behind  a  Counter  133 

have  any  Christmas  tree  only  blistered  feet  and  chicken 
pie ;  and  I  want  her  to  see  mine,  you  know  —  the  tree, 
I  mean,"  plunged  on  Pollyanna,  breathlessly.  "  I've 
asked  her  to  come  out  to-night,  or  to-morrow  night. 
And  you'll  let  me  have  it  all  lighted  up  again,  won't 
you?" 

"  Well,  really,  Pollyanna,"  began  Mrs.  Carew,  in 
cold  disapproval.  But  the  girl  behind  the  counter  in 
terrupted  with  a  voice  quite  as  cold,  and  even  more 
disapproving. 

"  Don't  worry,  madam.     I've  no  notion  of  goin'." 

"  Oh,  but  please,"  begged  Pollyanna.  "  You  don't 
know  how  I  want  you,  and  —  " 

"  I  notice  the  lady  ain't  doin'  any  askin',"  inter 
rupted  the  salesgirl,  a  little  maliciously. 

Mrs.  Carew  flushed  an  angry  red,  and  turned  as  if 
to  go;  but  Pollyanna  caught  her  arm  and  held  it, 
talking  meanwhile  almost  frenziedly  to  the  girl  be 
hind  the  counter,  who  happened,  at  the  moment,  to 
be  free  from  customers. 

"  Oh,  but  she  will,  she  will,"  Pollyanna  was  saying. 
"  She  wants  you  to  come  —  I  know  she  does.  Why, 
you  don't  know  how  good  she  is,  and  how  much  money 
she  gives  to  —  to  charitable  'sociations  and  every 
thing." 

"  Pollyanna/ "  remonstrated  Mrs.  Carew,  sharply. 
Once  more  she  would  have  gone,  but  this  time  she  was 
held  spellbound  by  the  ringing  scorn  in  the  low,  tense 
voice  of  the  salesgirl. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know!  There's  lots  of  'em  that'll  give 
to  rescue  work.  There's  always  plenty  of  helpin' 


134  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

hands  stretched  out  to  them  that  has  gone  wrong. 
And  that's  all  right.  I  ain't  findin'  no  fault  with  that. 
Only  sometimes  I  wonder  there  don't  some  of  'em 
think  of  helpin'  the  girls  before  they  go  wrong.  Why 
don't  they  give  good  girls  pretty  homes  with  books  and 
pictures  and  soft  carpets  and  music,  and  somebody 
'round  'em  to  care?  Maybe  then  there  wouldn't  be 
so  many  —  Good  heavens,  what  am  I  sayin'  ?  "  she 
broke  off,  under  her  breath.  Then,  with  the  old 
weariness,  she  turned  to  a  young  woman  who  had 
stopped  before  her  and  picked  up  a  blue  bow. 

"  That's  fifty  cents,  madam,"  Mrs.  Carew  heard, 
as  she  hurried  Pollyanna  away. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

A   WAITING  AND   A    WINNING 

IT  was  a  delightful  plan.  Pollyanna  had  it  entirely 
formulated  in  about  five  minutes ;  then  she  told  Mrs. 
Carew.  Mrs.  Carew  did  not  think  it  was  a  delightful 
plan,  and  she  said  so  very  distinctly. 

"  Oh,  but  I'm  sure  they'll  think  it  is,"  argued  Polly 
anna,  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Carew's  objections.  "  And  just 
think  how  easy  we  can  do  it!  The  tree  is  just  as  It 
was  —  except  for  the  presents,  and  we  can  get  more 
of  those.  It  won't  be  so  very  long  till  just  New  Year's 
Eve;  and  only  think  how  glad  she'll  be  to  come! 
Wouldn't  you  be,  if  you  hadn't  had  anything  for 
Christmas  only  blistered  feet  and  chicken  pie  ?  " 

"  Dear,  dear,  what  an  impossible  child  you  are! " 
frowned  Mrs.  Carew.  "  Even  yet  it  doesn't  seem  to 
occur  to  you  that  we  don't  know  this  young  person's 


name." 


"  So  we  don't !  And  isn't  it  funny,  when  I  feel  that 
I  know  her  so  well  ?  "  smiled  Pollyanna,  "  You  see, 
(we  had  such  a  good  talk  in  the  Garden  that  day,  and 
she  told  me  all  about  how  lonesome  she  was,  and  that 
she  thought  the  lonesomest  place  in  the  world  was  in 
a  crowd  in  a  big  city,  because  folks  didn't  think  nor 
notice.  Oh,  there  was  one  that  noticed;  but  he  no 
ticed  too  much,  she  said,  and  he  hadn't  ought  to  notice 

135 


136  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

her  any  —  which  is  kind  of  funny,  isn't  it,  when  you 
come  to  think  of  it.  But  anyhow,  he  came  for  her 
there  in  the  Garden  to  go  somewhere  with  him,  and 
she  wouldn't  go,  and  he  was  a  real  handsome  gentle 
man,  too  —  until  he  began  to  look  so  cross,  just  at 
the  last.  Folks  aren't  so  pretty  when  they're  cross, 
are  they?  Now  there  was  a  lady  to-day  looking  at 
bows,  and  she  said  —  well,  lots  of  things  that  weren't 
nice,  you  know.  And  she  didn't  look  pretty,  either, 
after  —  after  she  began  to  talk.  But  you  will  let 
me  have  the  tree  New  Year's  Eve,  won't  you,  Mrs. 
Carew?  —  and  invite  this  girl  who  sells  bows,  and 
Jamie?  He's  better,  you  know,  now,  and  he  could 
come.  Of  course  Jerry  would  have  to  wheel  him  — 
but  then,  we'd  want  Jerry,  anyway." 

"Oh,  of  course,  Jerry!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carew  in 
ironic  scorn.  "But  why  stop  with  Jerry?  I'm  sure 
Jerry  has  hosts  of  friends  who  would  love  to  come. 
And  —  " 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Carew,  may  I  ?  "  broke  in  Pollyanna,  in 
uncontrollable  delight.  "  Oh,  how  good,  good,  GOOD 
you  are !  I've  so  wanted  —  "  But  Mrs.  Carew  fairly 
gasped  aloud  in  surprise  and  dismay. 

"  No,  no,  Pollyanna,  I  —  "  she  began,  protestingly. 
But  Pollyanna,  entirely  mistaking  the  meaning  of  her 
interruption,  plunged  in  again  in  stout  champion 
ship. 

"  Indeed  you  are  good  —  just  the  bestest  ever ;  and 
I  sha'n't  let  you  say  you  aren't.  Now  I  reckon  I'll 
have  a  party  all  right !  There's  Tommy  Dolan  and  his 
sister  Jennie,  and  the  two  Macdonald  children,  and 


A  Waiting  and  a  Winning          137 

three  girls  whose  names  I  don't  know  that  live  under 
the  Murphys,  and  a  whole  lot  more,  if  we  have  room 
for  'em.  And  only  think  how  glad  they'll  be  when  I 
tell  'em!  Why,  Mrs.  Carew,  seems  to  me  as  if  I 
never  knew  anything  so  perfectly  lovely  in  all  my 
life  —  and  it's  all  your  doings !  Now  mayn't  I  begin 
right  away  to  invite  'em  —  so  they'll  knozv  what's 
coming  to  'em  ?  " 

And  Mrs.  Carew,  who  would  not  have  believed  such 
a  thing  possible,  heard  herself  murmuring  a  faint 
"  yes,"  which,  she  knew,  bound  her  to  the  giving  of 
a  Christmas-tree  party  on  New  Year's  Eve  to  a  dozen 
children  from  Murphy's  Alley  and  a  young  salesgirl 
whose  name  she  did  not  know. 

Perhaps  in  Mrs.  Carew's  memory  was  still  linger 
ing  a  young  girl's  "  Sometimes  I  wonder  there  don't 
some  of  'em  think  of  helpin'  the  girls  before  they  go 
wrong."  Perhaps  in  her  ears  was  still  ringing  Polly- 
anna's  story  of  that  same  girl  who  had  found  a  crowd 
in  a  big  city  the  loneliest  place  in  the  world,  yet  who 
had  refused  to  go  with  the  handsome  man  that  had 
"  noticed  too  much."  Perhaps  in  Mrs.  Carew's  heart 
was  the  undefined  hope  that  somewhere  in  it  all  lay 
the  peace  she  had  so  longed  for.  Perhaps  it  was  a 
little  of  all  three  combined  with  utter  helplessness  in 
the  face  of  Pollyanna's  amazing  twisting  of  her  irri 
tated  sarcasm  into  the  wide-sweeping  hospitality  of  a 
willing  hostess.  Whatever  it  was,  the  thing  was 
done;  and  at  once  Mrs.  Carew  found  herself  caught 
into  a  veritable  whirl  of  plans  and  plottings,  the  center 
of  which  was  always  Pollyanna  and  the  party. 


138  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

To  her  sister,  Mrs.  Carew  wrote  distractedly  of  the 
whole  affair,  closing  with : 

"  What  I'm  going  to  do  I  don't  know ;  but  I  sup 
pose  I  shall  have  to  keep  right  on  doing  as  I  am  do 
ing.  There  is  no  other  way.  Of  course,  if  Pollyanna 
once  begins  to  preach  —  but  she  hasn't  yet ;  so  I  can't, 
with  a  clear  conscience,  send  her  back  to  you." 

Delia,  reading  this  letter  at  the  Sanatorium,  laughed 
aloud  at  the  conclusion. 

"'Hasn't  preached  yet/  indeed!"  she  chuckled  to 
herself.  "  Bless  her  dear  heart !  And  yet  you,  Ruth 
Carew,  own  up  to  giving  two  Christmas-tree  parties 
within  a  week,  and,  as  I  happen  to  know,  your  home, 
which  used  to  be  shrouded  in  death-like  gloom,  is 
aflame  with  scarlet  and  green  from  top  to  toe.  But 
she  hasn't  preached  yet  —  oh,  no,  she  hasn't  preached 
yet!" 

The  party  was  a  great  success.  Even  Mrs.  Carew; 
admitted  that.  Jamie,  in  his  wheel  chair,  Jerry  with 
his  startling,  but  expressive  vocabulary,  and  the  girl 
(whose  name  proved  to  be  Sadie  Dean),  vied  with 
each  other  in  amusing  the  more  diffident  guests. 
Sadie  Dean,  much  to  the  others'  surprise  —  and  per 
haps  to  her  own  —  disclosed  an  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  most  fascinating  games ;  and  these  games,  with 
Jamie's  stories  and  Jerry's  good-natured  banter,  kept 
every  one  in  gales  of  laughter  until  supper  and  the 
generous  distribution  of  presents  from  the  laden  tree 
sent  the  happy  guests  home  with  tired  sighs  of  con 
tent. 

If  Jamie  (who  with  Jerry  was  the  last  to  leave)] 


A  Waiting  and  a  Winning          139 

looked  about  him  a  bit  wistfully,  no  one  apparently 
noticed  it.  Yet  Mrs.  Carew,  when  she  bade  him  good 
night,  said  low  in  his  ear,  half  impatiently,  half  em- 
barrassedly : 

"  Well,  Jamie,  have  you  changed  your  mind  — 
about  coming?" 

The  boy  hesitated.  A  faint  color  stole  into  his 
cheeks.  He  turned  and  looked  into  her  eyes  wistfully, 
searchingly.  Then  very  slowly  he  shook  his  head, 

"  If  it  could  always  be  —  like  to-night,  I  —  could/' 
he  sighed.  "  But  it  wouldn't.  There'd  be  to-morrow, 
and  next  week,  and  next  month,  and  next  year  comin' ; 
and  I'd  know  before  next  week  that  I  hadn't  oughter 


come." 


If  Mrs.  Carew  had  thought  that  the  New  Year's 
Eve  party  was  to  end  the  matter  of  Pollyanna's  efforts 
in  behalf  of  Sadie  Dean,  she  was  soon  undeceived; 
for  the  very  next  morning  Pollyanna  began  to  talk  of 
her. 

"  And  I'm  so  glad  I  found  her  again,"  she  prattled 
contentedly.  "  Even  if  I  haven't  been  able  to  find  the 
real  Jamie  for  you,  I've  found  somebody  else  for  you 
to  love  —  and  of  course  you'll  love  to  love  her,  'cause 
it's  just  another  way  of  loving  Jamie." 

Mrs.  Carew  drew  in  her  breath  and  gave  a  little 
gasp  of  exasperation.  This  unfailing  faith  in  her 
goodness  of  heart,  and  unhesitating  belief  in  her  de 
sire  to  "  help  everybody "  was  most  disconcerting,  and 
sometimes  most  annoying.  At  the  same  time  it  was  a 
most  difficult  thing  to  disclaim  —  under  the  circum- 


140  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

stances,  especially  with  Pollyanna's  happy,  confident 
eyes  full  on  her  face. 

"  But,  Pollyanna,"  she  objected  impotently,  at  last, 
feeling  very  much  as  if  she  were  struggling  against 
invisible  silken  cords,  "I  —  you  —  this  girl  really 
isn't  Jamie,  at  all,  you  know." 

"  I  know  she  isn't,"  sympathized  Pollyanna  quickly. 
"  And  of  course  I'm  just  as  sorry  she  isn't  Jamie  as 
can  be.  But  she's  somebody's  Jamie  —  that  is,  I  mean 
she  hasn't  got  anybody  down  here  to  love  her  and  — 
and  notice,  you  know;  and  so  whenever  you  remem 
ber  Jamie  I  should  think  you  couldn't  be  glad  enough 
there  was  somebody  you  could  help,  just  as  you'd  want 
folks  to  help  Jamie,  wherever  he  is." 

Mrs.  Carew  shivered  and  gave  a  little  moan. 

"  But  I  want  my  Jamie,"  she  grieved. 

Pollyanna  nodded  with  understanding  eyes. 

"  I  know  —  the  '  child's  presence.'  Mr.  Pendleton 
told  me  about  it  —  only  you've  got  the  '  woman's 
hand/  " 

"'  Woman's  hand'?" 

"  Yes  —  to  make  a  home,  you  know.  He  said  that 
it  took  a  woman's  hand  or  a  child's  presence  to  make 
a  home.  That  was  when  he  wanted  me,  and  I  found 
him  Jimmy,  and  he  adopted  him  instead." 

"Jimmy? "  Mrs.  Carew  looked  up  with  the  startled 
something  in  her  eyes  that  always  came  into  them  at 
the  mention  of  any  variant  of  that  name. 

"Yes;   Jimmy  Bean." 

"  Oh  —  Bean,"  said  Mrs.  Carew,  relaxing. 

"  Yes.     He  was  from  an  Orphan's  Home,  and  he 


A  Waiting  and  a  Winning          141 

ran  away.  I  found  him.  He  said  he  wanted  another 
kind  of  a  home  with  a  mother  in  it  instead  of  a  Ma 
tron.  I  couldn't  find  him  the  mother-part,  but  I  found 
him  Mr.  Pendleton,  and  he  adopted  him.  His  name 
is  Jimmy  Pendleton  now/' 

"But  it  was  —  Bean?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  Bean." 

"  Oh  1 "  said  Mrs.  Carew,  this  time  with  a  long  sigh. 

Mrs.  Carew  saw  a  good  deal  of  Sadie  Dean  during 
the  days  that  followed  the  New  Year's  Eve  party. 
She  saw  a  good  deal  of  Jamie,  too.  In  one  way  and 
another  Pollyanna  contrived  to  have  them  frequently 
at  the  house;  and  this,  Mrs.  Carew,  much  to  her  sur 
prise  and  vexation,  could  not  seem  to  prevent.  Her 
consent  and  even  her  delight  were  taken  by  Polly 
anna  as  so  much  a  matter  of  course  that  she  found 
herself  helpless  to  convince  the  child  that  neither  ap 
proval  nor  satisfaction  entered  into  the  matter  at  all, 
as  far  as  she  was  concerned. 

But  Mrs.  Carew,  whether  she  herself  realized  it  or 
not,  was  learning  many  things  —  things  she  never 
could  have  learned  in  the  old  days,  shut  up  in  her 
rooms,  with  orders  to  Mary  to  admit  no  one.  She 
was  learning  something  of  what  k  means  to  be  a  lonely 
young  girl  in  a  big  city,  with  one's  living  to  earn,  and 
with  no  one  to  care  —  except  one  who  cares  too  much, 
and  too  little. 

"But  what  did  you  mean?"  she  nervously  asked 
Sadie  Dean  one  evening ;  "  what  did  you  mean  that 
first  day  in  the  store  —  what  you  said  —  about  helping 
the  girls?" 


142  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Sadie  Dean  colored  distressfully. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  was  rude,"  she  apologized. 

"  Never  mind  that.  Tell  me  what  you  meant.  I've 
thought  of  it  so  many  times  since." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  was  silent;  then,  a  little  bit 
terly  she  said: 

'Twas  because  I  knew  a  girl  once,  and  I  was 
thinkin'  of  her.  She  came  from  my  town,  and  she 
was  pretty  and  good,  but  she  wa'n't  over  strong.  For 
a  year  we  pulled  together,  sharin'  the  same  room, 
boiling  our  eggs  over  the  same  gas-jet,  and  eatin'  our 
hash  and  fish  balls  for  supper  at  the  same  cheap  res 
taurant.  There  was  never  anything  to  do  evenin's  but 
to  walk  in  the  Common,  or  go  to  the  movies,  if  we 
had  the  dime  to  blow  in,  or  just  stay  in  our  room. 
Well,  our  room  wasn't  very  pleasant.  It  was  hot  in 
summer,  and  cold  in  winter,  and  the  gas-jet  was  so 
measly  and  so  flickery  that  we  couldn't  sew  or  read, 
even  if  we  hadn't  been  too  fagged  out  to  do  either  — 
which  we  'most  generally  was.  Besides,  over  our 
heads  was  a  squeaky  board  that  some  one  was  always 
rockin'  on,  and  under  us  was  a  feller  that  was  learnin* 
to  play  the  cornet.  Did  you  ever  hear  any  one  learn 
to  play  the  cornet?  " 

"  N-no,  I  don't  think  so,"  murmured  Mrs.  Carew. 

"  Well,  you've  missed  a  lot,"  said  the  girl,  dryly. 
Then,  after  a  moment,  she  resumed  her  story. 

"  Sometimes,  'specially  at  Christmas  and  holidays, 
we  used  to  walk  up  here  on  the  Avenue,  and  other 
streets,  huntin'  for  windows  where  the  curtains  were 
up,  and  we  could  look  in.  You  see,  we  were  pretty 


A  Waiting  and  a  Winning          143 

lonesome,  them  days  'specially,  and  we  said  it  did  us 
good  to  see  homes  with  folks,  and  lamps  on  the  center- 
tables,  and  children  playin'  games;  but  we  both  of  us 
knew  that  really  it  only  made  us  feel  worse  than  ever, 
because  we  were  so  hopelessly  out  of  it  all.  'Twas 
even  harder  to  see  the  automobiles,  and  the  gay  young 
folks  in  them,  laughing  and  chatting.  You  see,  we 
were  young,  and  I  suspect  we  wanted  to  laugh  and 
chatter.  We  wanted  a  good  time,  too;  and,  by  and 
by  —  my  chum  began  to  have  it  —  this  good  time. 

"  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  we  broke  part* 
nership  one  day,  and  she  went  her  way,  and  I  mine. 
I  didn't  like  the  company  she  was  keepin',  and  I  said 
so.  She  wouldn't  give  'em  up,  so  we  quit.  I  didn't 
see  her  again  for  'most  two  years,  then  I  got  a  note 
from  her,  and  I  went.  This  was  just  last  month. 
She  was  in  one  of  them  rescue  homes.  It  was  a  lovely 
place;  soft  rugs,  fine  pictures,  plants,  flowers,  and 
books,  a  piano,  a  beautiful  room,  and  everything  pos 
sible  done  for  her.  Rich  women  came  in  their  auto 
mobiles  and  carriages  to  take  her  driving,  and  she  was 
taken  to  concerts  and  matinees.  She  was  learnin' 
stenography,  and  they  were  going  to  help  her  to  a 
position  just  as  soon  as  she  could  take  it.  Everybody 
was  wonderfully  good  to  her,  she  said,  and  showed 
they  wanted  to  help  her  in  every  way.  But  she  said 
something  else,  too.  She  said: 

"  '  Sadie,  if  they'd  taken  one  half  the  pains  to  show 
me  they  cared  and  wanted  to  help  long  ago  when  I 
was  an  honest,  self-respectin',  hard-workin'  homesick 
girl  —  I  wouldn't  have  been  here  for  them  to  help 


144  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

now.'  And  —  well,  I  never  forgot  it.  That's  all.  It 
ain't  that  I'm  objectin'  to  the  rescue  work  —  it's 
a  fine  thing,  and  they  ought  to  do  it.  Only  I'm 
thinkin'  there  wouldn't  be  quite  so  much  of  it  for 
them  to  do  —  if  they'd  just  show  a  little  of  their  in 
terest  earlier  in  the  game." 

"  But  I  thought  —  there  were  working-girls'  homes, 
and  —  and  settlement-houses  that  —  that  did  that 
sort  of  thing,"  faltered  Mrs.  Carew  in  a  voice  that  few 
of  her  friends  would  have  recognized. 

"  There  are.  Did  you  ever  see  the  inside  of  one  of 
them?" 

"  Why,  n-no ;  though  I  —  I  have  given  money  to 
them."  This  time  Mrs.  Carew's  voice  was  almost 
apologetically  pleading  in  tone. 

Sadie  Dean  smiled  curiously. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  There  are  lots  of  good  women  that 
have  given  money  to  them  —  and  have  never  seen  the 
inside  of  one  of  them.  Please  don't  understand  that 
I'm  sayin'  anythin'  against  the  homes.  I'm  not. 
They're  good  things.  They're  almost  the  only  thing 
that's  doing  anything  to  help ;  but  they're  only  a  drop 
in  the  bucket  to  what  is  really  needed.  I  tried  one 
once;  but  there  was  an  air  about  it — somehow  I  felt — 
But  there,  what's  the  use?  Probably  they  aren't  all 
like  that  one,  and  maybe  the  fault  was  with  me.  If  I 
should  try  to  tell  you,  you  wouldn't  understand. 
You'd  have  to  live  in  it  —  and  you  haven't  even  seen 
the  inside  of  one.  But  I  can't  help  wonder  in'  some 
times  why  so  many  of  those  good  women  never  seem 
to  put  the  real  heart  and  interest  into  the  preventin' 


A  Waiting  and  a  Winning          145 

that  they  do  into  the  rescuin'.     But  there!     I  didn't 
mean  to  talk  such  a  lot.    But  —  you  asked  me." 

'  Yes,  I  asked  you,"  said  Mrs.  Carew  in  a  half- 
stifled  voice,  as  she  turned  away. 

Not  only  from  Sadie  Dean,  however,  was  Mrs. 
Carew  learning  things  never  learned  before,  but  from 
Jamie,  also. 

Jamie  was  there  a  great  deal.  Pollyanna  liked  to 
have  him  there,  and  he  liked  to  be  there.  At  first,  to 
be  sure,  he  had  hesitated ;  but  very  soon  he  had  quieted 
his  doubts  and  yielded  to  his  longings  by  telling  him 
self  (and  Pollyanna)  that,  after  all,  visiting  was  not 
"  staying  for  keeps." 

Mrs.  Carew  often  found  the  boy  and  Pollyanna  con 
tentedly  settled  on  the  library  window-seat,  with  the 
empty  wheel  cha-ir  close  by.  Sometimes  they  were 
poring  over  a  book.  '(She  heard  Jamie  tell  Pollyanna 
one  day  that  he  didn't  think  he'd  mind  so  very  much 
being  lame  if  he  had  so  many  books  as  Mrs.  Carew, 
and  that  he  guessed  he'd  be  so  happy  he'd  fly  clean 
away  if  he  had  both  books  and  legs.)  Sometimes  the 
boy  was  telling  stories,  and  Pollyanna  was  listening, 
wide-eyed  and  absorbed. 

Mrs.  Carew  wondered  at  Pollyanna's  interest  — 
until  one  day  she  herself  stopped  and  listened.  After 
that  she  wondered  no  longer  —  but  she  listened  a  good 
deal  longer.  Crude  and  incorrect  as  was  much  of  the 
boy's  language,  it  was  always  wonderfully  vivid  and 
picturesque,  so  that  Mrs.  Carew  found  herself,  hand 
in  hand  with  Pollyanna,  trailing  down  the  Golden  Ages 
at  the  beck  of  a  glowing-eyed  boy. 


146  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Dimly  Mrs.  Carew  was  beginning  to  realize,  too, 
something  of  what  it  must  mean,  to  be  in  spirit  and 
ambition  the  center  of  brave  deeds  and  wonderful  ad 
ventures,  while  in  reality  one  was  only  a  crippled  boy 
in  a  wheel  chair.  But  what  Mrs.  Carew  did  not  realize 
was  the  part  this  crippled  boy  was  beginning  to  play 
in  her  own  life.  She  did  not  realize  how  much  a  mat 
ter  of  course  his  presence  was  becoming,  nor  how 
interested  she  now  was  in  finding  something  new  "  for 
Jamie  to  see."  Neither  did  she  realize  how  day  by 
day  he  was  coming  to  seem  to  her  more  and  more  the 
lost  Jamie,  her  dead  sister's  child. 

As  February,  March,  and  April  passed,  however, 
and  May  came,  bringing  with  it  the  near  approach  of 
the  date  set  for  Pollyanna's  home-going,  Mrs.  Carew 
did  suddenly  awake  to  the  knowledge  of  what  that 
home-going  was  to  mean  to  her. 

She  was  amazed  and  appalled.  Up  to  now  she  had, 
in  belief,  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to  the  de 
parture  of  Pollyanna.  She  had  said  that  then  once 
again  the  house  would  be  quiet,  with  the  glaring  sun 
shut  out.  Once  again  she  would  be  at  peace,  and  able 
to  hide  herself  away  from  the  annoying,  tiresome 
world.  Once  again  she  would  be  free  to  summon  to 
her  aching  consciousness  all  those  dear  memories  of 
the  lost  little  lad  who  had  so  long  ago  stepped  into  that 
vast  unknown  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  All 
this  she  had  believed  would  be  the  case  when  Polly 
anna  should  go  home. 

But  now  that  Pollyanna  was  really  going  home,  the 
picture  was  far  different.  The  "  quiet  house  with  the 


A  Waiting  and  a  Winning          147 

sun  shut  out "  had  become  one  that  promised  to  be 
"  gloomy  and  unbearable."  The  longed-for  "  peace  " 
would  be  "  wretched  loneliness  " ;  and  as  for  her  being 
able  to  "  hide  herself  away  from  the  annoying,  tire 
some  world,"  and  "  free  to«  summon  to  her  aching 
consciousness  all  those  dear  memories  of  that  lost 
little  lad  "  —  just  as  if  anything  could  blot  out  those 
other  aching  memories  of  the  new  Jamie  (who  yet 
might  be  the  old  Jamie)  with  his  pitiful,  pleading 
eyes ! 

Full  well  now  Mrs.  Carew  knew  that  without  Pol- 
lyanna  the  house  would  be  empty;  but  that  without 
the  lad,  Jamie,  it  would  be  worse  than  that.  To  her 
pride  this  knowledge  was  not  pleasing.  To  her  heart 
it  was  torture  —  since  the  boy  had  twice  said  that  he 
would  not  come.  For  a  time,  during  those  last  few 
days  of  Pollyanna's  stay,  the  struggle  was  a  bitter 
one,  though  pride  always  kept  the  ascendancy.  Then, 
on  what  Mrs.  Carew  knew  would  be  Jamie's  last  visit, 
her  heart  triumphed,  and  once  more  she  asked  Jamie 
to  come  and  be  to  her  the  Jamie  that  was  lost. 

What  she  said  she  never  could  remember  after 
wards;  but  what  the  boy  said,  she  never  forgot. 
After  all,  it  was  compassed  in  six  short  words. 

For  what  seemed  a  long,  long  minute  his  eyes  had 
searched  her  face ;  then  to  his  own  had  come  a  trans 
figuring  light,  as  he  breathed : 

"  Oh,  yes !    Why,  you  —  care,  now !  " 


CHAPTER    XIV 

JIMMY  AND  THE   GREEN  -  EYED   MONSTER 

THIS  time  Beldingsville  did  not  literally  welcome 
Pollyanna  home  with  brass  bands  and  bunting  — 
perhaps  because  the  hour  of  her  expected  arrival 
was  known  to  but  few  of  the  townspeople.  But 
there  certainly  was  no  lack  of  joyful  greetings  on  the 
part  of  everybody  from  the  moment  she  stepped  from 
the  railway  train  with  her  Aunt  Polly  and  Dr.  Chilton. 
Nor  did  Pollyanna  lose  any  time  in  starting  on  a 
round  of  fly-away  minute  calls  on  all  her  old  friends. 
Indeed,  for  the  next  few  days,  according  to  Nancy, 
"  There  wasn't  no  putting  of  your  finger  on  her  any 
wheres,  for  by  the  time  you'd  got  your  finger  down 
she  wa'n't  there." 

And  always,  everywhere  she  went,  Pollyanna  met 
the  question :  "  Well,  how  did  you  like  Boston  ?  " 
Perhaps  to  no  one  did  she  answer  this  more  fully 
than  she  did  to  Mr.  Pendleton.  As  was  usually  the 
case  when  this  question  was  put  to  her,  she  began  her 
reply  with  a  troubled  frown. 

"Oh,  I  liked  it  —  I  just  loved  it — some  of  it." 

"But  not  all  of  it?"  smiled  Mr.  Pendleton. 

"  No.  There's  parts  of  it  —  Oh,  I  was  glad  to  be 
there,"  she  explained  hastily.  "  I  had  a  perfectly 

148 


Jimmy  and  the  Green-Eyed  Monster  149 

lovely  time,  and  lots  of  things  were  so  queer  and  dif 
ferent,  you  know  —  like  eating  dinner  at  night  in 
stead  of  noons,  when  you  ought  to  eat  it.  But  every 
body  was  so  good  to  me,  and  I  saw  such  a  lot  of  won 
derful  things  —  Bunker  Hill,  and  the  Public  Garden, 
and  the  Seeing  Boston  autos,  and  miles  of  pictures 
and  statues  and  store-windows  and  streets  that  didn't 
have  any  end.  And  folks.  I  never  saw  such  a  lot  of 
folks." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  —  I  thought  you  liked  folks," 
commented  the  man. 

"  I  do."  Pollyanna  frowned  again  and  pondered. 
"  But  what's  the  use  of  such  a  lot  of  them  if  you  don't 
know  'em?  And  Mrs.  Carew  wouldn't  let  me.  She 
didn't  know  'em  herself.  She  said  folks  didn't,  down 
there." 

There  was  a  slight  pause,  then,  with  a  sigh,  Polly 
anna  resumed. 

"  I  reckon  maybe  that's  the  part  I  don't  like  the 
most  —  that  folks  don't  know  each  other.  It  would 
be  such  a  lot  nicer  if  they  didt  Why,  just  think,  Mr. 
Pendleton,  there  are  lots  of  folks  that  live  on  dirty, 
narrow  streets,  and  don't  even  have  beans  and  fish 
balls  to  eat,  nor  things  even  as  good  as  missionary 
barrels  to  wear.  Then  there  are  other  folks  —  Mrs. 
Carew,  and  a  whole  lot  like  her  —  that  live  in  per 
fectly  beautiful  houses,  and  have  more  things  to  eat 
and  wear  than  they  know  what  to  do  with.  Now  if 
those  folks  only  knew  the  other  folks  —  "  But  Mr. 
Pendleton  interrupted  with  a  laugh. 

"  My  dear  child,  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  these 


150  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

people  don't  care  to  know  each  other?  "  he  asked  quiz 
zically. 

"  Oh,  but  some  of  them  do/'  maintained  Pollyanna, 
in  eager  defense.  "  Now  there's  Sadie  Dean  —  she 
sells  bows,  lovely  bows  in  a  big  store  —  she  wants  to 
know  people;  and  I  introduced  her  to  Mrs.  Carew, 
and  we  had  her  up  to  the  house,  and  we  had  Jamie 
and  lots  of  others  there,  too;  and  she  was  so  glad  to 
know  them!  And  that's  what  made  me  think  that  if 
only  a  lot  of  Mrs.  Carew's  kind  could  know  the  other 
kind  —  but  of  course  /  couldn't  do  the  introducing. 
I  didn't  know  many  of  them  myself,  anyway.  But  if 
they  could  know  each  other,  so  that  the  rich  people 
could  give  the  poor  people  part  of  their  money —  " 

But  again  Mr.  Pendleton  interrupted  with  a  laugh. 

"Oh,  Pollyanna,  Pollyanna,"  he  chuckled;  "I'm 
afraid  you're  getting  into  pretty  deep  water.  You'll 
be  a  rabid  little  socialist  before  you  know  it." 

"A  —  what  ?  "  questioned  the  little  girl,  dubiously. 
"I  —  I  don't  think  I  know  what  a  socialist  is.  But  I 
know  what  being  sociable  is  —  and  I  like  folks  that 
are  that.  If  it's  anything  like  that,  I  don't  mind  being 
one,  a  mite.  I'd  like  to  be  one." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  Pollyanna,"  smiled  the  man. 
"  But  when  it  comes  to  this  scheme  of  yours  for  the 
wholesale  distribution  of  wealth  —  you've  got  a  prob 
lem  on  your  hands  that  you  might  have  difficulty 
with." 

Pollyanna  drew  a  long  sigh. 

"I  know,"  she  nodded.  "That's  the  way  Mrs. 
Carew  talked.  She  says  I  don't  understand;  that 


Jimmy  and  the  Green-Eyed  Monster  151 

'twould  —  er  —  pauperize  her  and  be  indiscriminate 
and  pernicious,  and —  Well,  it  was  something  like 
that,  anyway,"  bridled  the  little  girl,  aggrievedly,  as 
the  man  began  to  laugh.  "  And,  anyway,  I  don't  un 
derstand  why  some  folks  should  have  such  a  lot,  and 
other  folks  shouldn't  have  anything;  and  I  don't  like 
it.  And  if  I  ever  have  a  lot  I  shall  just  give  some  of 
it  to  folks  who  don't  have  any,  even  if  it  does  make 
me  pauperized  and  pernicious,  and  — "  But  Mr. 
Pendleton  was  laughing  so  hard  now  that  Pollyanna, 
after  a  moment's  struggle,  surrendered  and  laughed 
with  him. 

"  Well,  anyway,"  she  reiterated,  when  she  had 
caught  her  breath,  "  I  don't  understand  it,  all  the 
same." 

"  No,  dear,  I'm  afraid  you  don't,"  agreed  the  man, 
growing  suddenly  very  grave  and  tender-eyed ;  "  nor 
any  of  the  rest  of  us,  for  that  matter.  But,  tell  me," 
he  added,  after  a  minute,  "  who  is  this  Jamie  you've 
been  talking  so  much  about  since  you  came  ?  " 

And  Pollyanna  told  him. 

In  talking  of  Jamie,  Pollyanna  lost  her  worried, 
baffled  look.  Pollyanna  loved  to  talk  of  Jamie.  Here 
was  something  she  understood.  Here  was  no  problem 
that  had  to  deal  with  big,  fearsome-sounding  words. 
Besides,  in  this  particular  instance  —  would  not  Mr. 
Pendleton  be  especially  interested  in  Mrs.  Carew's 
taking  the  boy  into  her  home,  for  who  better  than  him 
self  could  understand  the  need  of  a  child's  presence? 

For  that  matter,  Pollyanna  talked  to  everybody 
about  Jamie.  She  assumed  that  everybody  would  be 


152  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

as  interested  as  she  herself  was.  On  most  occasions 
she  was  not  disappointed  in  the  interest  shown;  but 
one  day  she  met  with  a  surprise.  It  came  through 
Jimmy  Pendleton. 

"  Say,  look  a-here,"  he  demanded  one  afternoon, 
irritably.  "  Wasn't  there  anybody  else  down  to  Bos 
ton  but  just  that  everlasting  '  Jamie  '  ?  " 

"Why,  Jimmy  Bean,  what  do  you  mean?"  cried 
Pollyanna. 

The  boy  lifted  his  chin  a  little. 

"  I'm  not  Jimmy  Bean.  I'm  Jimmy  Pendleton. 
And  I  mean  that  I  should  think,  from  your  talk,  that 
there  wasn't  anybody  down  to  Boston  but  just  that 
loony  boy  who  calls  them  birds  and  squirrels  *  Lady 
Lancelot/  and  all  that  tommyrot." 

"Why,  Jimmy  Be—  Pendleton!"  gasped  Polly 
anna.  Then,  with  some  spirit:  "Jamie  isn't  loony! 
He  is  a  very  nice  boy.  And  he  knows  a  lot  —  books 
and  stories!  Why,  he  can  make  stories  right  out  of 
his  own  head !  Besides,  it  isn't  '  Lady  Lancelot,'  — 
it's  '  Sir  Lancelot.'  If  you  knew  half  as  much  as  he 
does  you'd  know  that,  too !  "  she  finished,  with  flash 
ing  eyes. 

Jimmy  Pendleton  flushed  miserably  and  looked 
utterly  wretched.  Growing  more  and  more  jealous 
moment  by  moment,  still  doggedly  he  held  his  ground. 

"  Well,  anyhow,"  he  scoffed,  "  I  don't  think  much 
of  his  name.  '  Jamie  ' !  Humph !  —  sounds  sissy ! 
And  I  know  somebody  else  that  said  so,  too." 

"Who  was  it?" 

There  was  no  answer. 


Jimmy  and  the  Green-Eyed  Monster  153 

"  Who  was  It? "  demanded  Polly  anna,  more  per 
emptorily. 

"  Dad."    The  boy's  voice  was  sullen. 

"  Your  —  dad  ?  "  repeated  Pollyanna,  in  amaze 
ment.  "  Why,  how  could  he  know  Jamie?  " 

"  He  didn't.  Twasn't  about  that  Jamie.  'Twas 
about  me."  The  boy  still  spoke  sullenly,  with  his  eyes 
turned  away.  Yet  there  was  a  curious  softness  in  his 
voice  that  was  always  noticeable  whenever  he  spoke  of 
his  father. 

"You!" 

"  Yes.  'Twas  just  a  little  while  before  he  died. 
We  stopped  'most  a  week  with  a  farmer.  Dad  helped 
about  the  hay  in'  —  and  I  did,  too,  some.  The 
farmer's  wife  was  awful  good  to  me,  and  pretty  quick 
she  was  callin'  me  '  Jamie.'  I  don't  know  why,  but 
she  just  did.  And  one  day  father  heard  her.  He  got 
awful  mad  —  so  mad  that  I  remembered  it  always  — 
what  he  said.  He  said  '  Jamie '  wasn't  no  sort  of  a 
name  for  a  boy,  and  that  no  son  of  his  should  ever  be 
called  it.  He  said  'twas  a  sissy  name,  and  he  hated 
it.  'Seems  so  I  never  saw  him  so  mad  as  he  was  that 
night.  He  wouldn't  even  stay  to  finish  the  work, 
but  him  and  me  took  to  the  road  again  that  night.  I 
was  kind  of  sorry,  'cause  I  liked  her  —  the  farmer's 
wife,  I  mean.  She  was  good  to  me." 

Pollyanna  nodded,  all  sympathy  and  interest.  It 
was  not  often  that  Jimmy  said  much  of  that  mysteri 
ous  past  life  of  his,  before  she  had  known  him. 

"  And  what  happened  next?  "  she  prompted.  Pol 
lyanna  had,  for  the  moment,  forgotten  all  about  the 


154  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

original  subject  of  the  controversy  —  the  name 
"  Jamie  "  that  was  dubbed  "  sissy." 

The  boy  sighed. 

"  We  just  went  on  till  we  found  another  place. 
And  'twas  there  dad  —  died.  Then  they  put  me  in  the 
'sylum." 

"  And  then  you  ran  away  and  I  found  you  that  day, 
down  by  Mrs.  Snow's,"  exulted  Pollyanna,  softly. 
"  And  I've  known  you  ever  since." 

"  Oh,  yes  —  and  you've  known  me  ever  since," 
repeated  Jimmy  —  but  in  a  far  different  voice :  Jimmy 
had  suddenly  come  back  to  the  present,  and  to  his 
grievance.  "  But,  then,  I  ain't  '  Jamie,'  you  know," 
he  finished  with  scornful  emphasis,  as  he  turned  loftily 
away,  leaving  a  distressed,  bewildered  Pollyanna  be 
hind  him. 

"  Well,  anyway,  I  can  be  glad  he  doesn't  always 
act  like  this,"  sighed  the  little  girl,  as  she  mournfully 
watched  the  sturdy,  boyish  figure  with  its  disagreeable, 
amazing  swagger. 


CHAPTER   XV 

AUNT    POLLY   TAKES   ALARM 

POLLYANNA  had  been  at  home  about  a  week  when 
the  letter  from  Delia  Wetherby  came  to  Mrs.  Chilton. 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  you  see  what  your  little 
niece  has  done  for  my  sister/'  wrote  Miss  Wetherby; 
"  but  I'm  afraid  I  can't.  You  would  have  to  know 
what  she  was  before.  You  did  see  her,  to  be  sure, 
and  perhaps  you  saw  something  of  the  hush  and 
gloom  in  which  she  has  shrouded  herself  for  so  many 
years.  But  you  can  have  no  conception  of  her  bitter 
ness  of  heart,  her  lack  of  aim  and  interest,  her  insist 
ence  upon  eternal  mourning. 

"  Then  came  Pollyanna.  Probably  I  didn't  tell  you, 
but  my  sister  regretted  her  promise  to  take  the  child, 
almost  the  minute  it  was  given;  and  she  made  the 
stern  stipulation  that  the  moment  Pollyanna  began  to 
preach,  back  she  should  come  to  me.  Well,  she  hasn't 
preached  —  at  least,  my  sister  says  she  hasn't;  and 
my  sister  ought  to  know.  And  yet  —  well,  just  let  me 
tell  you  what  I  found  when  I  went  to  see  her  yesterday. 
Perhaps  nothing  else  could  give  you  a  better  idea  of 
what  that  wonderful  little  Pollyanna  of  yours  has  ac 
complished. 

"  To  begin  with,  as  I  approached  the  house,  I  saw 
that  nearly  all  the  shades  were  up:  they  used  to  be 

155 


156  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

down  —  'way  down  to  the  sill.  The  minute  I  stepped 
into  the  hall  I  heard  music  —  Parsifal.  The  drawing- 
rooms  were  open,  and  the  air  was  sweet  with  roses. 

"  '  Mrs.  Carew  and  Master  Jamie  are  in  the  music- 
room/  said  the  maid.  And  there  I  found  them  —  my 
sister,  and  the  youth  she  has  taken  into  her  home, 
listening  to  one  of  those  modern  contrivances  that  can 
hold  an  entire  opera  company,  including  the  orchestra. 

"  The  boy  was  in  a  wheel  chair.  He  was  pale,  but 
plainly  beatifically  happy.  My  sister  looked  ten  years 
younger.  Her  usually  colorless  cheeks  showed  a  faint 
pink,  and  her  eyes  glowed  and  sparkled.  A  little  later, 
after  I  had  talked  a  few  minutes  with  the  boy,  my 
sister  and  I  went  up-stairs  to  her  own  rooms;  and 
there  she  talked  to  me  —  of  Jamie.  Not  of  the  old 
Jamie,  as  she  used  to,  with  tear-wet  eyes  and  hopeless 
sighs,  but  of  the  new  Jamie  —  and  there  were  no 
sighs  nor  tears  now.  There  was,  instead,  the  eager 
ness  of  enthusiastic  interest. 

"  '  Delia,  he's  wonderful/  she  began.  '  Everything 
that  is  best  in  music,  art,  and  literature  seems  to  ap 
peal  to  him  in  a  perfectly  marvelous  fashion,  only,  of 
course,  he  needs  development  and  training.  That's 
what  I'm  going  to  see  that  he  gets.  A  tutor  is  com 
ing  to-morrow.  Of  course  his  language  is  something 
awful;  at  the  same  time,  he  has  read  so  many  good 
books  that  his  vocabulary  is  quite  amazing  —  and  you 
should  hear  the  stories  he  can  reel  off!  Of  course  in 
general  education  he  is  very  deficient;  but  he's  eager 
to  learn,  so  that  will  soon  be  remedied.  He  loves 
music,  and  I  shall  give  him  what  training  in  that  he 


Aunt  Polly  Takes  Alarm  157 

wishes.  I  have  already  put  in  a  stock  of  carefully 
selected  records.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  his  face 
when  he  first  heard  that  Holy  Grail  music.  He  knows 
all  about  King  Arthur  and  his  Round  Table,  and  he 
prattles  of  knights  and  lords  and  ladies  as  you  and  I 
do  of  the  members  of  our  own  family  —  only  some 
times  I  don't  know  whether  his  Sir  Lancelot  means 
the  ancient  knight  or  a  squirrel  in  the  Public  Garden. 
And,  Delia,  I  believe  he  can  be  made  to  walk.  I'm 
going  to  have  Dr.  Ames  see  him,  anyway,  and  — ' 

"  And  so  on  and  on  she  talked,  while  I  sat  amazed 
and  tongue-tied,  but,  oh,  so  happy !  I  tell  you  all  this, 
dear  Mrs.  Chilton,  so  you  can  see  for  yourself  how 
interested  she  is,  how  eagerly  she  is  going  to  watch 
this  boy's  growth  and  development,  and  how,  in  spite 
of  herself,  it  is  all  going  to  change  her  attitude  toward 
life.  She  can't  do  what  she  is  doing  for  this  boy, 
Jamie,  and  not  do  for  herself  at  the  same  time.  Never 
again,  I  believe,  will  she  be  the  soured,  morose  woman 
she  was  before.  And  it's  all  because  of  Pollyanna. 

"  Pollyanna!  Dear  child  —  and  the  best  part  of  it 
is,  she  is  so  unconscious  of  the  whole  thing.  I  don't 
believe  even  my  sister  yet  quite  realizes  what  is  taking 
place  within  her  own  heart  and  life,  and  certainly 
Pollyanna  doesn't  —  least  of  all  does  she  realize  the* 
part  she  played  in  the  change. 

"And  now,  dear  Mrs.  Chilton,  how  can  I  thank 
you?  I  know  I  can't;  so  I'm  not  even  going  to  try. 
Yet  in  your  heart  I  believe  you  know  how  grateful 
I  am  to  both  you  and  Pollyanna. 

"  DELLA  WETHERBY." 


158  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  have  worked  a  cure,  all  right," 
smiled  Dr.  Chilton,  when  his  wife  had  finished  read 
ing  the  letter  to  him. 

To  his  surprise  she  lifted  a  quick,  remonstrative 
hand. 

"  Thomas,  don't,  please!  "  she  begged. 

"  Why,  Polly,  what's  the  matter?  Aren't  you  glad 
that  —  that  the  medicine  worked?" 

Mrs.  Chilton  dropped  despairingly  back  in  her  chair. 

"  There  you  go  again,  Thomas,"  she  sighed.  "  Of 
course  I'm  glad  that  this  misguided  woman  has  for 
saken  the  error  of  her  ways  and  found  that  she  can 
be  of  use  to  some  one.  And  of  course  I'm  glad  that 
Pollyanna  did  it.  But  I  am  not  glad  to  have  that 
child  continually  spoken  of  as  if  she  were  a  —  a  bottle 
of  medicine,  or  a  '  cure.'  Don't  you  see?  " 

"Nonsense!  After  all,  where's  the  harm?  I've 
called  Pollyanna  a  tonic  ever  since  I  knew  her." 

"  Harm !  Thomas  Chilton,  that  child  is  growing 
older  every  day.  Do  you  want  to  spoil  her?  Thus 
far  she  has  been  utterly  unconscious  of  her  extraor 
dinary  power.  And  therein  lies  the  secret  of  her  suc 
cess.  The  minute  she  consciously  sets  herself  to  re 
form  somebody,  you  .know  as  well  as  I  do  that  she 
will  be  simply  impossible.  Consequently,  Heaven  for 
bid  that  she  ever  gets  it  into  her  head  that  she's  any 
thing  like  a  cure-all  for  poor,  sick,  suffering  human- 
ity." 

"  Nonsense  \  I  wouldn't  worry,"  laughed  the  doc 
tor. 

"  But  I  do  worry,  Thomas." 


Aunt  Polly  Takes  Alarm  159 

"  But,  Polly,  think  of  what  she's  done,"  argued  the 
doctor.  "  Think  of  Mrs.  Snow  and  John  Pendleton, 
and  quantities  of  others  —  why,  they're  not  the  same 
people  at  all  that  they  used  to  be,  any  more  than  Mrs. 
Carew  is.  And  Pollyanna  did  do  it  —  bless  her 
heart!" 

"  I  know  she  did,"  nodded  Mrs.  Polly  Chilton,  em 
phatically.  "  But  I  don't  want  Pollyanna  to  know  she 
did  it!  Oh,  of  course  she  knows  it,  in  a  way.  She 
knows  she  taught  them  to  play  the  glad  game  with 
her,  and  that  they  are  lots  happier  in  consequence. 
And  that's  all  right.  It's  a  game  —  her  game,  and 
they're  playing  it  together.  To  you  I  will  admit  that 
Pollyanna  has  preached  to  us  one  of  the  most  power 
ful  sermons  I  ever  heard;  but  the  minute  she  knows 
it  —  well,  I  don't  want  her  to.  That's  all.  And 
right  now  let  me  tell  you  that  I've  decided  that  I -will 
go  to  Germany  with  you  this  fall.  At  first  I  thought 
I  wouldn't.  I  didn't  want  to  leave  Pollyanna  —  and 
I'm  not  going  to  leave  her  now.  I'm  going  to  take 
her  with  me." 

"  Take  her  with  us  ?    Good !    Why  not  ?  " 

"  I've  got  to.  That's  all.  Furthermore,  I  should 
be  glad  to  plan  to  stay  a  few  years,  just  as  you  said 
you'd  like  to.  I  want  to  get  Pollyanna  away,  quite 
away  from  Beldingsville  for  a  while.  I'd  like  to  keep 
her  sweet  and  unspoiled,  if  I  can.  And  she  shall  not 
get  silly  notions  into  her  head  if  I  can  help  myself. 
Why,  Thomas  Chilton,  do  we  want  that  child  made  an 
insufferable  little  prig  ?  " 

"  We  certainly  don't,"  laughed  the  doctor.     "  But, 


160  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

for  that  matter,  I  don't  believe  anything  or  anybody 
could  make  her  so.  However,  this  Germany  idea  suits 
me  to  a  T.  You  know  I  didn't  want  to  come  away 
when  I  did  —  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Pollyanna.  So 
the  sooner  we  get  back  there  the  better  I'm  satisfied. 
And  I'd  like  to  stay  —  for  a  little  practice,  as  well  as 
study." 

"  Then  that's  settled."    And  Aunt  Polly  gave  a  sat 
isfied  sigh. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

WHEN    POLLYANNA    WAS   EXPECTED 

ALL  Beldingsville  was  fairly  aquiver  with  excite 
ment.  Not  since  Pollyanna  Whittier  came  home  from 
the  Sanatorium,  walking,  had  there  been  such  a  chatter 
of  talk  over  back-yard  fences  and  on  every  street  cor 
ner.  To-day,  too,  the  center  of  interest  was  Polly 
anna.  Once  again  Pollyanna  was  coming  home  —  but 
so  different  a  Pollyanna,  and  so  different  a  home 
coming  ! 

Pollyanna  was  twenty  now.  For  six  years  she  had 
spent  her  winters  in  Germany,  her  summers  leisurely 
traveling  with  Dr.  Chilton  and  his  wife.  Only  once 
during  that  time  had  she  been  in  Beldingsville,  and 
then  it  was  for  but  a  short  four  weeks  the  summer 
she  was  sixteen.  Now  she  was  coming  home  —  to 
stay,  report  said;  she  and  her  Aunt  Polly. 

The  doctor  would  not  be  with  them.  Six  months  be 
fore,  the  town  had  been  shocked  and  saddened  by  the 
news  that  the  doctor  had  died  suddenly.  Beldings 
ville  had  expected  then  that  Mrs.  Chilton  and  Polly 
anna  would  return  at  once  to  the  old  home.  But  they 
had  not  come.  Instead  had  come  word  that  the 
widow  and  her  niece  would  remain  abroad  for  a  time. 
The  report  said  that,  in  entirely  new  surroundings, 
Mrs.  Chilton  was  trying  to  seek  distraction  and  relief 
from  her  great  sorrow. 

161 


162  PoUyanna  Grows  Up 

Very  soon,  however,  vague  rumors,  and  rumors  not 
so  vague,  began  to  float  through  the  town  that,  finan 
cially,  all  was  not  well  with  Mrs.  Polly  Chilton.  Cer 
tain  railroad  stocks,  in  which  it  was  known  that  the 
Harrington  estate  had  been  heavily  interested,  wa 
vered  uncertainly,  then  tumbled  into  ruin  and  disaster. 
Other  investments,  according  to  report,  were  in  a 
most  precarious  condition.  From  the  doctor's  estate, 
little  could  be  expected.  He  had  not  been  a  rich  man, 
and  his  expenses  had  been  heavy  for  the  past  six 
years.  Beldingsville  was  not  surprised,  therefore, 
when,  not  quite  six  months  after  the  doctor's  death, 
word  came  that  Mrs.  Chilton  and  Pollyanna  were 
•coming  home. 

Once  more  the  old  Harrington  homestead,  so  long 
closed  and  silent,  showed  up-flung  windows  and  wide- 
•open  doors.  Once  more  Nancy  —  now  Mrs.  Timothy 
Durgin  —  swept  and  scrubbed  and  dusted  until  the 
old  place  shone  in  spotless  order. 

"  No,  I  hain't  had  no  instructions  ter  do  it ;  I 
hain't,  I  hain't,"  Nancy  explained  to  curious  friends 
and  neighbors  who  halted  at  the  gate,  or  came  more 
boldly  up  to  the  doorways.  "  Mother  Durgin's  had 
the  key,  'course,  and  has  come  in  regerler  to  air  up 
and  see  that  things  was  all  right;  and  Mis'  Chilton 
just  wrote  and  said  she  and  Miss  Pollyanna  was 
comin'  this  week  Friday,  and  ter  please  see  that  the 
rooms  and  sheets  was  aired,  and  ter  leave  the  key 
under  the  side-door  mat  on  that  day. 

"  Under  the  mat,  indeed!  Just  as  if  I'd  leave  them 
two  poor  things  ter  come  into  this  house  alone,  and 


When  Pollyanna  Was  Expected      163 

all  forlorn  like  that  —  and  me  only  a  mile  away, 
a-sittin'  in  my  own  parlor  like  as  if  I  was  a  fine  lady 
an'  hadn't  no  heart  at  all,  at  all!  Just  as  if  the  poor 
things  hadn't  enough  ter  stand  without  that  — 
a-comin'  into  this  house  an'  the  doctor  gone  —  bless- 
his  kind  heart  !  —  an'  never  comin'  back.  An'  no 
money,  too.  Did  ye  hear  about  that?  An'  ain't  it  a 
shame,  a  shame!  Think  of  Miss  Polly  —  I  mean, 
Mis'  Chilton  —  bein'  poor!  My  stars  and  stockings^ 
I  can't  sense  it  —  I  can't,  I  can't !  " 

Perhaps  to  no  one  did  Nancy  speak  so  interestedly 
as  she  did  to  a  tall,  good-looking  young  fellow  with 
peculiarly  frank  eyes  and  a  particularly  winning  smile, 
who  cantered  up  to  the  side  door  on  a  mettlesome 
thoroughbred  at  ten  o'clock  that  Thursday  morning. 
At  the  same  time,  to  no  one  did  she  talk  with  so  much 
evident  embarrassment,  so  far  as  the  manner  of  ad 
dress  was  concerned;  for  her  tongue  stumbled  and 
blundered  out  a  "  Master  Jimmy  —  er  —  Mr.  Bean  — 
I  mean,  Mr.  Pendleton,  Master  Jimmy !  "  with  a  nerv 
ous  precipitation  that  sent  the  young  man  himself  into 
a  merry  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Never  mind,  Nancy !  Let  it  go  at  whatever  comes 
handiest,"  he  chuckled.  "  I've  found  out  what  I 
wanted  to  know:  Mrs.  Chilton  and  her  niece  really 
are  expected  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  sir,  they  be,  sir,"  courtesied  Nancy,  "  — 
more's  the  pity !  Not  but  that  I  shall  be  glad  enough 
ter  see  'em,  you  understand,  but  it's  the  way  they're 
a-comin'." 

"Yes,  I  know.     I  understand,"  nodded  the  youth, 


164  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

gravely,  his  eyes  sweeping  the  fine  old  house  before 
him.  "  Well,  I  suppose  that  part  can't  be  helped. 
But  I'm  glad  you're  doing  —  just  what  you  are  do 
ing.  That  will  help  a  whole  lot,"  he  finished  with  a 
bright  smile,  as  he  wheeled  about  and  rode  rapidly 
down  the  driveway. 

Back  on  the  steps  Nancy  wagged  her  head  wisely. 

"  I  ain't  surprised,  Master  Jimmy,"  she  declared 
aloud,  her  admiring  eyes  following  the  handsome  fig 
ures  of  horse  and  man.  "  I  ain't  surprised  that  you 
ain't  lettin'  no  grass  grow  under  your  feet  'bout  in- 
quirin'  for  Miss  Pollyanna.  I  said  long  ago  'twould 
come  sometime,  an'  it's  bound  to  —  what  with  your 
growin'  so  handsome  apd  tall.  An'  I  hope  'twill;  I 
do,  I  do.  It'll  be  just  like  a  book,  what  with  her 
a-findin'  you  an'  gettin'  you  into  that  grand  home  with 
Mr.  Pendleton.  My,  but  who'd  ever  take  you  now 
for  that  little  Jimmy  Bean  that  used  to  be!  I  never 
did  see  such  a  change  in  anybody  —  I  didn't,  I 
didn't ! "  she  answered,  with  one  last  look  at  the 
rapidly  disappearing  figures  far  down  the  road. 

Something  of  the  same  thought  must  have  been  in 
the  mind  of  John  Pendleton  some  time  later  that  same 
morning,  for,  from  the  veranda  of  his  big  gray  house 
on  Pendleton  Hill,  John  Pendleton  was  watching  the 
rapid  approach  of  that  same  horse  and  rider;  and  in 
his  eyes  was  an  expression  very  like  the  one  that  had 
been  in  Mrs.  Nancy  Durgin's.  On  his  lips,  too,  was 
an  admiring  "  Jove !  what  a  handsome  pair !  "  as  the 
two  dashed  by  on  the  way  to  the  stable. 

Five  minutes  later  the  youth  came  around  the  cor-^ 


When  Pollyanna  Was  Expected      165 

ner  of  the  house  and  slowly  ascended  the  veranda 
steps. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  is  it  true  ?  Are  they  coming  ?  " 
asked  the  man,  with  visible  eagerness. 

"  Yes." 

"When?" 

"  To-morrow."  The  young  fellow  dropped  himself 
into  a  chair. 

At  the  crisp  terseness  of  the  answer,  John  Pendleton 
frowned.  He  threw  a  quick  look  into  the  young  man's 
face.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated;  then,  a  little 
abruptly,  he  asked: 

"  Why,  son,  what's  the  matter?  " 

"Matter?     Nothing,  sir." 

"  Nonsense !  I  know  better.  You  left  here  an  hour 
ago  so  eager  to  be  off  that  wild  horses  could  not  have 
held  you.  Now  you  sit  humped  up  in  that  chair  and 
look  as  if  wild  horses  couldn't  drag  you  out  of  it.  If 
I  didn't  know  better  I'd  think  you  weren't  glad  that 
our  friends  are  coming." 

He  paused,  evidently  for  a  reply.  But  he  did  not 
get  it. 

"  Why,  Jim,  aren't  you  glad  they're  coming?  " 

The  young  fellow  laughed  and  stirred  restlessly. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course." 

"Humph!    You  act  like  it." 

The  youth  laughed  again.  A  boyish  red  flamed  into 
his  face. 

"Well,  it's  only  that  I  was  thinking  —  of  Polly 
anna." 

*'  Pollyanna !    Why,  man  alive,  you've  done  noth- 


166  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

ing  but  prattle  of  Pollyanna  ever  since  you  came  home 
from  Boston 'and  found  she  was  expected.  I  thought 
you  were  dying  to  see  Pollyanna." 

The  other  leaned  forward  with  curious  intentness. 

"  That's  exactly  it !  See  ?  You  said  it  a  minute 
ago.  It's  just  as  if  yesterday  wild  horses  couldn't 
keep  me  from  seeing  Pollyanna;  and  now,  to-day, 
when  I  know  she's  coming  —  they  couldn't  drag  me 
to  see  her." 

"Why,  Jim!" 

At  the  shocked  incredulity  on  John  Pendleton's 
face,  the  younger  man  fell  back  in  his  chair  with  an 
embarrassed  laugh. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  It  sounds  nutty,  and  I  don't  expect 
I  can  make  you  understand.  But,  somehow,  I  don't 
think  —  I  ever  wanted  Pollyanna  to  grow  up.  She 
was  such  a  dear,  just  as  she  was.  I  like  to  think  of 
her  as  I  saw  her  last,  her  earnest,  freckled  little  face, 
her  yellow  pigtails,  her  tearful :  '  Oh,  yes,  I'm  glad  I'm 
g"oing;  but  I  think  I  shall  be  a  little  gladder  when  I 
come  back/  That's  the  last  time  I  saw  her.  You 
know  we  were  in  Egypt  that  time  she  was  here  four 
years  ago." 

"  I  know.  I  see  exactly  what  you  mean,  too.  I 
think  I  felt  the  same  way  —  till  I  saw  her  last  winter 
in  Rome."  ' 

The  other  turned  eagerly. 

"  Sure  enough,  you  have  seen  her !  Tell  me  about 
her." 

A  shrewd  twinkle  came  into  John  Pendleton's 
eyes. 


When  Pollyanna  Was  Expected      167 

"  Oh,  but  I  thought  you  didn't  want  to  know  Polly 
anna —  grown  up." 

With  a  grimace  the  young  fellow  tossed  this  aside. 

"Is  she  pretty?" 

"  Oh,  ye  young  men !  "  shrugged  John  Pendleton, 
in  mock  despair.  "  Always  the  first  question  — '  Is 
she  pretty?'!  " 

"Well,  is  she?"  insisted  the  youth. 

"  I'll  let  you  judge  for  yourself.  If  you  —  On 
second  thoughts,  though,  I  believe  I  won't.  You 
might  be  too  disappointed.  Pollyanna  isn't  pretty,  so 
far  as  regular  features,  curls,  and  dimples  go.  In 
fact,  to  my  certain  knowledge  the  great  cross  in  Pol- 
lyanna's  life  thus  far  is  that  she  is  so  sure  she  isn't 
pretty.  Long  ago  she  told  me  that  black  curls  were 
one  of  the  things  she  was  going  to  have  when  she  got 
to  Heaven ;  and  last  year  in  Rome  she  said  something 
else.  It  wasn't  much,  perhaps,  so  far  as  words  went, 
but  I  detected  the  longing  beneath.  She  said  she  did 
wish  that  sometime  some  one  would  write  a  novel 
with  a  heroine  who  had  straight  hair  and  a  freckle 
on  her  nose;  but  that  she  supposed  she  ought  to  be 
glad  girls  in  books  didn't  have  to  have  them." 

"  That  sounds  like  the  old  Pollyanna." 

"Oh,  you'll  still  find  her — Pollyanna,"  smiled  the 
man,  quizzically.  "  Besides,  /  think  she's  pretty.  Her 
eyes  are  lovely.  She  is  the  picture  of  health.  She 
carries  herself  with  all  the  joyous  springiness  of 
youth,  and  her  whole  face  lights  up  so  wonderfully 
when  she  talks  that  you  quite  forget  whether  her 
features  are  regular  or  not" 


168  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Does  she  still  —  play  the  game?  " 

John  Pendleton  smiled  fondly. 

"  I  imagine  she  plays  it,  but  she  doesn't  say  much 
about  it  now,  I  fancy.  Anyhow,  she  didn't  to  me, 
the  two  or  three  times  I  saw  heV." 

There  was  a  short  silence;  then,  a  little  slowly, 
young  Pendleton  said: 

"  I  think  that  was  one  of  the  things  that  was  worry 
ing  me.  That  game  has  been  so  much  to  so  many 
people.  It  has  meant  so  much  everywhere,  all  through 
the  town!  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  her  giving  it 
up  and  not  playing  it.  At  the  same  time  I  couldn't 
fancy  a  grown-up  Pollyanna  perpetually  admonishing 
people  to  be  glad  for  something.  Someway,  I  —  well, 
as  I  said,  I  —  I  just  didn't  want  Pollyanna  to  grow 
up,  anyhow." 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  worry,"  shrugged  the  elder  man, 
with  a  peculiar  smile.  "  Always,  (with  Pollyanna, 
you  know,  it  was  the  '  clearing-up  shower,'  both  lit 
erally  and  figuratively;  and  I  think  you'll  find  she 
lives  up  to  the  same  principle  now  —  though  perhaps 
not  quite  in  the  same  way.  Poor  child,  I  fear  she'll 
need  some  kind  of  game  to  make  existence  endurable, 
for  a  while,  at  least." 

"  Do  you  mean  because  Mrs.  Chilton  has  lost  her 
money  ?  Are  they  so  very  poor,  then  ?  " 

"  I  suspect  they  are.  In  fact,  they  are  in  rather 
bad  shape,  so  far  as  money  matters  go,  as  I  happen 
to  know.  Mrs.  Chilton's  own  fortune  has  shrunk  un 
believably,  and  poor  Tom's  estate  is  very  small,  and 
hopelessly  full  of  bad  debts  —  professional  services 


When  Pollyanna  Was  Expected      169 

never  paid  for,  and  that  never  will  be  paid  for.  Tom 
could  never  say  no  when  his  help  was  needed,  and  all 
the  dead  beats  in  town  knew  it  and  imposed  on  him 
accordingly.  Expenses  have  been  heavy  with  him 
lately.  Besides,  he  expected  great  things  when  he 
should  have  completed  this  special  work  in  Germany. 
Naturally  he  supposed  his  wife  and  Pollyanna  were 
more  than  amply  provided  for  through  the  Harring 
ton  estate ;  so  he  had  no  worry  in  that  direction." 
"  Hm-m ;  I  see,  I  see.  Too  bad,  too  bad !  " 
"  But  that  isn't  all.  It  was  about  two  months  after 
Tom's  death  that  I  saw  Mrs.  Chilton  and  Pollyanna 
in  Rome,  and  Mrs.  Chilton  then  was  in  a  terrible 
state.  In  addition  to  her  sorrow,  she  had  just  begun 
to  get  an  inkling  of  the  trouble  with  her  finances,  and 
she  was  nearly  frantic.  She  refused  to  come  home. 
She  declared  she  never  wanted  to  see  Beldingsville, 
or  anybody  in  it,  again.  You  see,  she  has  always  been 
a  peculiarly  proud  woman,  and  it  was  all  affecting  her 
in  a  rather  curious  way.  Pollyanna  said  that  her 
aunt  seemed  possessed  with  the  idea  that  Beldingsville 
had  not  approved  of  her  marrying  Dr.  Chilton  in  the 
first  place,  at  her  age ;  and  now  that  he  was  dead, 
she  felt  that  they  were  utterly  out  of  sympathy  in 
any  grief  that  she  might  show.  She  resented  keenly, 
too,  the  fact  that  they  must  now  know  that  she  was 
poor  as  well  as  widowed.  In  short,  she  had  worked 
herself  Into  an  utterly  morbid,  wretched  state,  as  un 
reasonable  as  it  was  terrible.  Poor  little  Pollyanna! 
It  was  a  marvel  to  me  how  she  stood  it.  All  is,  if 
Mrs.  Chilton  kept  it  up,  and  continues  to  keep  it  up, 


170  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

that  child  will  be  a  wreck.  That's  why  I  said  Polly 
anna  would  need  some  kind  of  a  game  if  ever  any 
body  did/' 

"  The  pity  of  it !  —  to  think  of  that  happening  to 
Pollyanna !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  in  a  voice 
that  was  not  quite  steady. 

"  Yes ;  and  you  can  see  all  is  not  right  by  the  way 
they  are  coming  to-day  —  so  quietly,  with  not  a  word 
to  anybody.  That  was  Polly  Chilton's  doings,  I'll 
warrant.  She  didn't  want  to  be  met  by  anybody.  I 
understand  she  wrote  to  no  one  but  her  Old  Tom's 
wife,  Mrs.  Durgin,  who  had  the  keys." 

"  Yes,  so  Nancy  told  me  —  good  old  soul !  She'd 
got  the  whole  house  open,  and  had  contrived  somehow 
to  make  it  look  as  if  it  wasn't  a  tomb  of  dead  hopes 
and  lost  pleasures.  Of  course  the  grounds  looked 
fairly  well,  for  Old  Tom  has  kept  them  up,  after  a 
fashion.  But  it  made  my  heart  ache  —  the  whole 
thing." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then,  curtly,  John  Pendle- 
ton  suggested : 

"  They'  ought  to  be  met." 

"  They  will  be  met." 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  station?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Then  you  know  what  train  they're  coming  on." 

"  Oh,  no.    Neither  does  Nancy." 

"Then  how  will  you  manage?" 

"  I'm  going  to  begin  in  the  morning  and  go  to  every 
train  till  they  come,"  laughed  the  young  man,  a  bit 
grimly.  "  Timothy's  going,  too,  with  the  family  car- 


When  PoUyanna  Was  Expected      171 

riage.  After  all,  there  aren't  many  trains,  anyway, 
that  they  can  come  on,  you  know." 

"  Hm-m,  I  know,"  said  John  Pendleton.  "  Jim, 
I  admire  your  nerve,  but  not  your  judgment.  I'm 
glad  you're  going  to  follow  your  nerve  and  not  your 
judgment,  however  —  and  I  wish  you  good  luck." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  smiled  the  young  man  dolefully. 
"  I  need  'em  —  your  good  wishes  —  all  right,  all 
right,  as  Nancy  says." 


CHAPTER    XVII 

WHEN    POLLYANNA    CAME 

As  the  train  neared  Beldingsville,  Pollyanna  watched 
her  aunt  anxiously.  All  day  Mrs.  Chilton  had  been 
growing  more  and  more  restless,  more  and  more 
gloomy ;  and  Pollyanna  was  fearful  of  the  time  when 
the  familiar  home  station  should  be  reached. 

As  Pollyanna  looked  at  her  aunt,  her  heart  ached. 
She  was  thinking  that  she  would  not  have  believed  it 
possible  that  any  one  could  have  changed  and  aged 
so  greatly  in  six  short  months.  Mrs.  Chilton's  eyes 
were  lusterless,  her  cheeks  pallid  and  shrunken,  and 
her  forehead  crossed  and  recrossed  by  fretful  lines. 
Her  mouth  drooped  at  the  corners,  and  her  hair  was 
combed  tightly  back  in  the  unbecoming  fashion  that 
had  been  hers  when  Pollyanna  first  had  seen  her,  years 
before.  All  the  softness  and  sweetness  that  seemed  to 
have  come  to  her  with  her  marriage  had  dropped 
from  her  like  a  cloak,  leaving  uppermost  the  old  hard 
ness  and  sourness  that  had  been  hers  when  she  was 
Miss  Polly  Harrington,  unloved,  and  unloving. 

"  Pollyanna !  "     Mrs.  Chilton's  voice  was  incisive. 

Pollyanna  started  guiltily.  She  had  an  uncomfort 
able  feeling  that  her  aunt  might  have  read  her 
thoughts. 

"  Yes,  auntie." 

172 


When  Pollyanna  Came  173 

"  Where  is  that  black  bag  —  the  little  one?  " 

"  Right  here." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you'd  get  out  my  black  veil.  We're 
nearly  there." 

"  But  it's  so  hot  and  thick,  auntie !  " 

"  Pollyanna,  I  asked  for  that  black  veil.  If  you'd 
please  learn  to  do  what  I  ask  without  arguing  about 
it,  it  would  be  a  great  deal  easier  for  me.  I  want  that 
veil.  Do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  give  all  Beldings- 
ville  a  chance  to  see  how  I  '  take  it'?" 

"  Oh,  auntie,  they'd  never  be  there  in  that  spirit," 
protested  Pollyanna,  hurriedly  rummaging  in  the 
black  bag  for  the  much-wanted  veil.  "  Besides,  there 
won't  be  anybody  there,  anyway,  to  meet  us.  We 
didn't  tell  any  one  we  were  coming,  you  know." 

'  Yes,  I  know.  We  didn't  tell  any  one  to  meet  us. 
But  we  instructed  Mrs.  Durgin  to  have  the  rooms 
aired  and  the  key  under  the  mat  for  to-day.  Do  you 
suppose  Mary  Durgin  has  kept  that  information  to 
herself?  Not  much!  Half  the  town  knows  we're 
coming  to-day,  and  a  dozen  or  more  will  '  happen 
around '  the  station  about  train  time.  I  know  them ! 
They  want  to  see  what  Polly  Harrington  poor  looks 
like.  They  —  " 

"  Oh,  auntie,  auntie,"  begged  Pollyanna,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

"  If  I  wasn't  so  alone.  If  —  the  doctor  were  only 
here,  and  — "  She  stopped  speaking  and  turned 
away  her  head.  Her  mouth  worked  convulsively. 
"Where  is  —  that  veil?"  she  choked  huskily. 

"Yes,  dear.     Here  it  is  —  right  here,"  comforted 


174  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Pollyanna,  whose  only  aim  now,  plainly,  was  to  get 
the  veil  into  her  aunt's  hands  with  all  haste.  "  And 
here  we  are  now  almost  there.  Oh,  auntie,  I  do  wish 
you'd  had  Old  Tom  or  Timothy  meet  us !  " 

"  And  ride  home  in  state,  as  if  we  could  afford  to 
keep  such  horses  and  carriages?  And  when  we  know 
we  shall  have  to  sell  them  to-morrow?  No,  I  thank 
you,  Pollyanna.  I  prefer  to  use  the  public  carriage, 
under  those  circumstances." 

"I  know,  but  — "  The  train  came  to  a  jolting, 
jarring  stop,  and  only,  a  fluttering  sigh  finished  Polly- 
anna's  sentence. 

As  the  two  women  stepped  to  the  platform,  Mrs. 
Chilton,  in  her  black  veil,  looked  neither  to  the  right 
nor  the  left.  Pollyanna,  however,  was  nodding  and 
smiling  tearfully  in  half  a  dozen  directions  before  she 
had  taken  twice  as  many  steps.  Then,  suddenly,  she 
found  herself  looking  into  a  familiar,  yet  strangely 
unfamiliar  face. 

"  Why,  it  isn't  —  it  is  —  Jimmy  I  "  she  beamed, 
reaching  forth  a  cordial  hand.  "  That  is,  I  suppose 
I  should  say  f  Mr.  Pendleton' "  she  corrected  herself 
with  a  shy  smile  that  said  plainly :  "  Now  that  you've 
grown  so  tall  and  fine !  " 

"  I'd  like  to  see  you  try  it,"  challenged  the  youth, 
with  a  very  Jimmy-like  tilt  to  his  chin.  He  turned 
then  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Chilton ;  but  that  lady,  with  her 
head  half  averted,  was  hurrying  on  a  little  in  advance. 

He  turned  back  to  Pollyanna,  his  eyes  troubled  and 
sympathetic. 

"If  you'd  please  come  this  way  —  both  of  you," 


When  Pollyanna  Came  175 

he  urged  hurriedly.  "  Timothy  is  here  with  the  car 
riage." 

"  Oh,  how  good  of  him,"  cried  Pollyanna,  but  with 
an  anxious  glance  at  the  somber  veiled  figure  ahead. 
Timidly  she  touched  her  aunt's  arm.  "  Auntie,  dear, 
Timothy's  here.  He's  come  with  the  carriage.  He's 
over  this  side.  And  —  this  is  Jimmy  Bean,  auntie. 
You  remember  Jimmy  Bean !  " 

In  her  nervousness  and  embarrassment  Pollyanna 
did  not  notice  that  she  had  given  the  young  man  the 
old  name  of  his  boyhood.  Mrs.  Chilton,  however, 
evidently  did  notice  it.  With  palpable  reluctance  she 
turned  and  inclined  her  head  ever  so  slightly. 

"  Mr.  —  Pendleton  is  very  kind,  I  am  sure ;  but  — 
I  am  sorry  that  he  or  Timothy  took  quite  so  much 
trouble,"  she  said  frigidly. 

"  No  trouble  —  no  trouble  at  all,  I  assure  you," 
laughed  the  young  man,  trying  to  hide  his  embarrass 
ment.  "  Now  if  you'll  just  let  me  have  your  checks, 
so  I  can  see  to  your  baggage." 

"  Thank  you,"  began  Mrs.  Chilton,  "  but  I  am  very 
sure  we  can  —  " 

But  Pollyanna,  with  a  relieved  little  "  thank  you !  " 
had  already  passed  over  the  checks;  and  dignity  de 
manded  that  Mrs.  Chilton  say  no  more. 

The  drive  home  was  a  silent  one.  Timothy,  vaguely 
hurt  at  the  reception  he  had  met  with  at  the  hands  of 
his  former  mistress,  sat  up  in  front  stiff  and  straight, 
with  tense  lips.  Mrs.  Chilton,  after  a  weary  "  Well, 
well,  child,  just  as  you  please;  I  suppose  we  shall 
have  to  ride  home  in  it  now !  "  had  subsided  into  stern 


176  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

gloom.  Pollyanna,  however,  was  neither  stern,  nor 
tense,  nor  gloomy.  With  eager,  though  tearful  eyes 
she  greeted  each  loved  landmark  as  they  came  to  it. 
Only  once  did  she  speak,  and  that  was  to  say: 

"  Isn't  Jimmy  fine  ?  How  he  has  improved !  And 
hasn't  he  the  nicest  eyes  and  smile  ?  " 

She  waited  hopefully,  but  as  there  was  no  reply  to 
this,  she  contented  herself  with  a  cheerful :  "  Well,  I 
think  he  has,  anyhow." 

Timothy  had  been  both  too  aggrieved  and  too  afraid 
to  tell  Mrs.  Chilton  what  to  expect  at  home;  so  the 
wide-flung  doors  and  flower-adorned  rooms  with 
Nancy  courtesying  on  the  porch  were  a  complete  sur 
prise  to  Mrs.  Chilton  and  Pollyanna. 

"  Why,  Nancy,  how  perfectly  lovely !  "  cried  Polly 
anna,  springing  lightly  to  the  ground.  "  Auntie, 
here's  Nancy  to  welcome  us.  And  only  see  how 
charming  she's  made  everything  look !  " 

Pollyanna's  voice  was  determinedly  cheerful, 
though  it  shook  audibly.  This  home-coming  without 
the  dear  doctor  whom  she  had  loved  so  well  was  not 
easy  for  her;  and  if  hard  for  her,  she  knew  some 
thing  of  what  it  must  be  for  her  aunt.  She  knew, 
too,  that  the  one  thing  her  aunt  was  dreading  was  a 
breakdown  before  Nancy,  than  which  nothing  could 
be  worse  in  her  eyes.  Behind  the  heavy  black  veil  the 
eyes  were  brimming  and  the  lips  were  trembling,  Pol 
lyanna  knew.  She  knew,  too,  that  to  hide  these  facts 
her  aunt  would  probably  seize  the  first  opportunity 
for  faultfinding,  and  make  her  anger  a  cloak  to  hide 
the  fact  that  her  heart  was  breaking.  Pollyanna  was 


When  Pollyanna  Came  177 

not  surprised,  therefore,  to  hear  her  aunt's  few  cold 
words  of  greeting  to  Nancy  followed  by  a  sharp :  "  Of 
course  all  this  was  very  kind,  Nancy;  but,  really,  I 
would  have  much  preferred  that  you  had  not  done 
it." 

All  the  joy  fled  from  Nancy's  face.  She  looked 
hurt  and  frightened. 

"  Oh,  but  Miss  Polly  —  I  mean,  Mis'  Chilton,"  she 
entreated ;  "  it  seemed  as  if  I  couldn't  let  you  —  " 

"  There,  there,  never  mind,  Nancy,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Chilton.  "I  —  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it." 
And,  with  her  head  proudly  high,  she  swept  out  of 
the  room.  A  minute  later  they  heard  the  door  of  her 
bedroom  shut  up-stairs. 

Nancy  turned  in  dismay. 

"Oh,  Miss  Pollyanna,  what  is  it?  What  have  I 
done  ?  I  thought  she'd  like  it.  I  meant  it  all  right !  " 

"Of  course  you  did,"  wept  Pollyanna,  fumbling  in 
her  bag  for  her  handkerchief.  "  And  'twas  lovely  to 
have  you  do  it,  too,  —  just  lovely." 

"  But  she  didn't  like  it." 

"  Yes,  she  did.  But  she  didn't  want  to  show  she 
liked  it.  She  was  afraid  if  she  did  she'd  show  — 
other  things,  and  —  Oh,  Nancy,  Nancy,  I'm  so  glad 
just  to  c-cry!"  And  Pollyanna  was  sobbing  on 
Nancy's  shoulder. 

"  There,  there,  dear ;  so  she  shall,  so  she  shall," 
soothed  Nancy,  patting  the  heaving  shoulders  with 
one  hand,  and  trying,  with  the  other,  to  make  the 
corner  of  her  apron  serve  as  a  handkerchief  to  wipe 
her  own  tears  away. 


178  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  You  see,  I  mustn't  —  cry  —  before  —  her"  fal 
tered  Pollyanna;  "  and  it  was  hard  —  coming  here  — 
the  first  time,  you  know,  and  all.  And  I  knew  how 
she  was  feeling." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  poor  lamb,"  crooned  Nancy. 
"  And  to  think  the  first  thing  7  should  have  done  was 
somethin'  ter  vex  her,  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  but  she  wasn't  vexed  at  that,"  corrected  Pol 
lyanna,  agitatedly.  "  It's  just  her  way,  Nancy.  You 
see,  she  doesn't  like  to  show  how  badly  she  feels  about 
—  about  the  doctor.  And  she's  so  afraid  she  will 
show  it  that  she  —  she  just  takes  anything  for  an  ex 
cuse  to  —  to  talk  about.  She  does  it  to  me,  too,  just 
the  same.  So  I  know  all  about  it.  See?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see,  I  do,  I  do."  Nancy's  lips  snapped 
together  a  little  severely,  and  her  sympathetic  pats, 
for  the  minute,  were  even  more  loving,  if  possible. 
"  Poor  lamb !  I'm  glad  I  come,  anyhow,  for  your 
sake." 

"  Yes,  so  am  I,"  breathed  Pollyanna,  gently  draw 
ing  herself  away  and  wiping  her  eyes.  "  There,  I 
feel  better.  And  I  do  thank  you  ever  so  much,  Nancy, 
and  I  appreciate  it.  Now  don't  let  us  keep  you  when 
it's  time  for  you  to  go." 

"Ho!  I'm  thinkin'  I'll  stay  for  a  spell,"  sniffed 
Nancy. 

"  Stay  F  Why,  Nancy,  I  thought  you  were  mar 
ried.  Aren't  you  Timothy's  wife?" 

"  Sure !  But  he  won't  mind  —  for  you.  He'd 
want  me  to  stay  —  for  you." 

"Oh,  but,  Nancy,  we  couldn't  let  you,"  demurred 


When  Pollyanna  Came  170 

Pollyanna.  "  We  can't  have  anybody  —  now,  you 
know.  I'm  going  to  do  the  work.  Until  we  know 
just  how  things  are,  we  shall  live  very  economically, 
Aunt  Polly  says." 

"  Ho !  as  if  I'd  take  money  from  —  "  began  Nancy, 
in  bridling  wrath ;  but  at  the  expression  on  the  other's 
face  she  stopped,  and  let  her  words  dwindle  off 
in  a  mumbling  protest,  as  she  hurried  from  the 
room  to  look  after  her  creamed  chicken  on  the 
stove. 

Not  until  supper  was  over,  and  everything  put  in 
order,  did  Mrs.  Timothy  Durgin  consent  to  drive  away 
with  her  husband;  then  she  went  with  evident  reluc 
tance,  and  with  many  pleadings  to  be  allowed  to  come 
"  just  ter  help  out  a  bit  "  at  any  time. 

After  Nancy  had  gone,  Pollyanna  came  into  the 
living-room  where  Mrs.  Chilton  was  sitting  alone,  her 
hand  over  her  eyes. 

"Well,  dearie,  shall  I  light  up?"  suggested  Polly 
anna,  brightly. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so." 

"  Wasn't  Nancy  a  dear  to  fix  us  all  up  so  nice  ?  " 

No  answer. 

"  Where  in  the  world  she  found  all  these  flowers 
I  can't  imagine.  She  has  them  in  every  room  down 
here,  and  in  both  bedrooms,  too." 

Still  no  answer. 

Pollyanna  gave  a  half-stifled  sigh  and  threw  a  wist 
ful  glance  into  her  aunt's  averted  face.  After  a  mo 
ment  she  began  again  hopefully. 

"  I  saw  Old  Tom  in  the  garden.     Poor  man,  his 


180  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

rheumatism  is  worse  than  ever.  He  was  bent  nearly 
double.  He  inquired  very  particularly  for  you, 
and  —  " 

Mrs.  Chilton  turned  with  a  sharp  interruption. 

"Pollyanna,  what  are  we  going  to  do?" 

"  Do?    Why,  the  best  we  can,  of  course,  dearie." 

Mrs.  Chilton  gave  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Come,  come,  Pollyanna,  do  be  serious  for  once. 
You'll  find  it  is  serious,  fast  enough.  What  are  we 
going  to  do?  As  you  know,  my  income  has  almost 
entirely  stopped.  Of  course,  some  of  the  things  are 
worth  something,  I  suppose;  but  Mr.  Hart  says  very 
few  of  them  will  pay  anything  at  present.  We  have 
something  in  the  bank,  and  a  little  coming  in,  of 
course.  And  we  have  this  house.  But  of  what 
earthly  use  is  the  house  ?  We  can't  eat  it,  or  wear  it. 
It's  too  big  for  us,  the  way  we  shall  have  to  live ;  and 
we  couldn't  sell  it  for  half  what  it's  really  worth,  un 
less  we  happened  to  find  just  the  person  that  wanted 
it." 

"  Sell  it !  Oh,  auntie,  you  wouldn't  —  this  beauti 
ful  house  full  of  lovely  things !  " 

"  I  may  have  to,  Pollyanna.  We  have  to  eat  — 
unfortunately." 

"  I  know  it ;  and  I'm  always  so  hungry,"  mourned 
Pollyanna,  with  a  rueful  laugh.  "  Still,  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  be  glad  my  appetite  is  so  good." 

:<  Very  likely.  You'd  find  something  to  be  glad 
about,  of  course.  But  what  shall  we  do,  child?  I  do 
wish  you'd  be  serious  for  a  minute." 

A  quick  change  came  to  Pollyanna's  face. 


When  Pollyanna  Came  181 

"  I  am  serious,  Aunt  Polly.  I've  been  thinking. 
I  —  I  wish  I  could  earn  some  money." 

"  Oh,  child,  child,  to  think  of  my  ever  living  to  hear 
you  say  that !  "  moaned  the  woman ;  "  —  a  daughter 
of  the  Harringtons  having  to  earn  her  bread !  " 

"  Oh,  but  that  isn't  the  way  to  look  at  it,"  laughed 
Pollyanna.  "  You  ought  to  be  glad  if  a  daughter  of 
the  Harringtons  is  smart  enough  to  earn  her  bread! 
That  isn't  any  disgrace,  Aunt  Polly." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  it  isn't  very  pleasant  to  one's 
pride,  after  the  position  we've  always  occupied  in 
Beldingsville,  Pollyanna." 

Pollyanna  did  not  seem  to  have  heard.  Her  eyes 
were  musingly  fixed  on  space. 

"If  only  I  had  some  talent!  If  only  I  could  do 
something  better  than  anybody  else  in  the  world," 
she  sighed  at  last.  "  I  can  sing  a  little,  play  a  little, 
embroider  a  little,  and  darn  a  little;  but  I  can't  do 
any  of  them  well  —  not  wdl  enough  to  be  paid  for  it. 

"  I  think  I'd  like  best  to  cook,"  she  resumed,  after 
a  minute's  silence,  "  and  keep  house.  You  know  I 
loved  that  in  Germany  winters,  when  Gretchen  used 
to  bother  us  so  much  by  not  coming  when  we  wanted 
her.  But  I  don't  exactly  want  to  go  into  other  people's 
kitchens  to  do  it." 

"As  if  I'd  let  you!  Pollyanna!"  shuddered  Mrs. 
Chilton  again. 

"  And  of  course,  to  just  work  in  our  own  kitchen 
here  doesn't  bring  in  anything,"  bemoaned  Pollyanna, 
"  —  not  any  money,  I  mean.  And  it's  money  we 
need." 


182  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  It  most  emphatically  is,"  sighed  Aunt  Polly. 

There  was  a  long-  silence,  broken  at  last  by  Polly 
anna. 

"  To  think  that  after  all  you've  done  for  me,  auntie 
—  to  think  that  now,  if  I  only  could,  I'd  have  such  a 
splendid  chance  to  help!  And  yet  —  I  can't  do  it. 
Oh,  why  wasn't  I  born  with  something  that's  worth 
money?  " 

"  There,  there,  child,  don't,  don't !  Of  course,  if  the 
doctor — "  The  words  choked  into  silence. 

Pollyanna  looked  up  quickly,  and  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Dear,  dear,  this  will  never  do !  "  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  complete  change  of  manner.  "  Don't  you  fret, 
auntie.  What'll  you  wager  that  I  don't  develop  the 
most  marvelous  talent  going,  one  of  these  days?  Be 
sides,  /  think  it's  real  exciting  —  all  this.  There's  so 
much  uncertainty  in  it.  There's  a  lot  of  fun  in  want 
ing  things  —  and  then  watching  for  them  to  come. 
Just  living  along  and  knoiving  you're  going  to  have 
everything  you  want  is  so  —  so  humdrum,  you  know," 
she  finished,  with  a  gay  little  laugh. 

Mrs.  Chilton,  however,  did  not  laugh.  She  only 
sighed  and  said: 

"  Dear  me,  Pollyanna,  what  a  child  you  are !  " 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

A   MATTER   OF   ADJUSTMENT 

THE  first  few  days  at  Beldingsville  were  not  easy 
either  for  Mrs.  Chilton  or  for  Pollyanna.  They  were 
days  of  adjustment;  and  days  of  adjustment  are  sel 
dom  easy. 

From  travel  and  excitement  it  was  not  easy  to  put 
one's  mind  to  the  consideration  of  the  price  of  butter 
and  the  delinquencies  of  the  butcher.  From  having 
all  one's  time  for  one's  own,  it  was  not  easy  to  find 
always  the  next  task  clamoring  to  be  done.  Friends 
and  neighbors  called,  too,  and  although  Pollyanna 
welcomed  them  with  glad  cordiality,  Mrs.  Chilton, 
when  possible,  excused  herself;  and  always  she  said 
bitterly  to  Pollyanna: 

"  Curiosity,  I  suppose,  to  see  how  Polly  Harring 
ton  likes  being  poor." 

Of  the  doctor  Mrs.  Chilton  seldom  spoke,  yet  Pol 
lyanna  knew  very  well  that  almost  never  was  he  ab 
sent  from  her  thoughts ;  and  that  more  than  half  her 
taciturnity  was  but  her  usual  cloak  for  a  deeper  emo 
tion  which  she  did  not  care  to  show. 

Jimmy  Pendleton  Pollyanna  saw  several  times  dur 
ing  that  first  month.  He  came  first  with  John  Pen 
dleton  for  a  somewhat  stiff  and  ceremonious  call  — 
not  that  it  was  either  stiff  or  ceremonious  until 

183 


184  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

after  Aunt  Polly  came  into  the  room;  then  it  was 
both.  For  some  reason  Aunt  Polly  had  not  excused 
herself  on  this  occasion.  After  that  Jimmy  had  come 
by  himself,  once  with  flowers,  once  with  a  book  for 
Aunt  Polly,  twice  with  no  excuse  at  all.  Pollyanna 
welcomed  him  with  frank  pleasure  always.  Aunt 
Polly,  after  that  first  time,  did  not  see  him  at  all. 

To  the  most  of  their  friends  and  acquaintances  Pol 
lyanna  said  little  about  the  change  in  their  circum 
stances.  To  Jimmy,  however,  she  talked  freely,  and 
always  her  constant  cry  was:  "If  only  I  could  do 
something  to  bring  in  some  money !  " 

"  I'm  getting  to  be  the  most  mercenary  little  crea 
ture  you  ever  saw/'  she  laughed  dolefully.  "  I've  got 
so  I  measure  everything  with  a  dollar  bill,  and  I  actu 
ally  think  in  quarters  and  dimes.  You  see,  Aunt  Polly 
does  feel  so  poor !  " 

"  It's  a  shame !  "  stormed  Jimmy. 

"  I  know  it.  But,  honestly,  I  think  she  feels  a  little 
poorer  than  she  needs  to  —  she's  brooded  over  it  so. 
But  I  do  wish  I  could  help!  " 

Jimmy  looked  down  at  the  wistful,  eager  face  with 
its  luminous  eyes,  and  his  own  eyes  softened. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  —  if  you  could  do  it  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  cook  and  keep  house,"  smiled  Pol 
lyanna,  with  a  pensive  sigh.  "  I  just  love  to  beat  eggs 
and  sugar,  and  hear  the  soda  gurgle  its  little  tune  in 
the  cup  of  sour  milk.  I'm  happy  if  I've  got  a  day's 
baking  before  me.  But  there  isn't  any  money  in  that 
—  except  in  somebody  else's  kitchen,  of  course. 


A  Matter  of  Adjustment  185 

And  I  —  I  don't  exactly  love  it  well  enough  for 
that!" 

"  I  should  say  not !  "  ejaculated  the  young  fellow. 

Once  more  he  glanced  down  at  the  expressive  face 
so  near  him.  This  time  a  queer  look  came  to  the 
corners  of  his  mouth.  He  pursed  his  lips,  then  spoke, 
a  slow  red  mounting  to  his  forehead. 

"  Well,  of  course  you  might  —  marry.  Have  you 
thought  of  that  —  Miss  Pollyanna?'J 

Pollyanna  gave  a  merry  laugh.  Voice  and  manner 
were  unmistakably  those  of  a  girl  quite  untouched  by 
even  the  most  far-reaching  of  Cupid's  darts. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  never  marry,"  she  said  blithely. 
"  In  the  first  place  I'm  not  pretty,  you  know ;  and  in 
the  second  place,  I'm  going  to  live  with  Aunt  Polly 
and  take  care  of  her." 

"  Not  pretty,  eh  ?  "  smiled  Pendleton,  quizzically. 
"  Did  it  ever  —  er  —  occur  to  you  that  there  might 
be  a  difference  of  opinion  on  that,  Pollyanna?  " 

Pollyanna  shook  her  head. 

"  There  couldn't  be.  I've  got  a  mirror,  you  see," 
she  objected,  with  a  merry  glance. 

It  sounded  like  coquetry.  In  any  other  girl  it  would 
have  been  coquetry,  Pendleton  decided.  But,  looking 
into  the  face  before  him  now,  Pendleton  knew  that  it 
was  not  coquetry.  He  knew,  too,  suddenly,  why  Pol 
lyanna  had  seemed  so  different  from  any  girl  he  had 
ever  known.  Something  of  her  old  literal  way  of 
looking  at  things  still  clung  to  her. 

"Why  aren't  you  pretty?"  he  asked. 

Even  as  he  uttered  the  question,  and  sure  as  he  was 


186  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

of  his  estimate  of  Pollyanna's  character,  Pendleton 
quite  held  his  breath  at  his  temerity.  He  could  not 
help  thinking  of  how  quickly  any  other  girl  he  knew 
would  have  resented  that  implied  acceptance  of  her 
claim  to  no  beauty.  But  Pollyanna''s  first  words 
showed  him  that  even  this  lurking  fear  of  his  was 
quite  groundless. 

"  Why,  I  just  am  not,"  she  laughed,  a  little  ruefully. 
"  I  wasn't  made  that  way.  Maybe  you  don't  remem 
ber,  but  long  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  it  always 
seemed  to  me  that  one  of  the  nicest  things  Heaven 
was  going  to  give  me  when  I  got  there  was  black 
curls." 

"  And  is  that  your  chief  desire  now?  " 

"  N-no,  maybe  not,"  hesitated  Pollyanna.  "  But  I 
still  think  I'd  like  them.  Besides,  my  eyelashes  aren't 
long  enough,  and  my  nose  isn't  Grecian,  or  Roman, 
or  any  of  those  delightfully  desirable  ones  that  belong 
to  a  *  type.'  It's  just  nose.  And  my  face  is  too  long, 
or  too  short,  I've  forgotten  which;  but  I  measured  it 
once  with  one  of  those  '  correct- for-beauty  '  tests,  and 
it  wasn't  right,  anyhow.  And  they  said  the  width  of 
the  face  should  be  equal  to  five  eyes,  and  the  width 
of  the  eyes  equal  to  —  to  something  else.  I've  for 
gotten  that,  too  —  only  that  mine  wasn't." 

"  What  a  lugubrious  picture!  "  laughed  Pendleton. 
Then,  with  his  gaze  admiringly  regarding  the  girl's 
animated  face  and  expressive  eyes,  he  asked : 

"  Did  you  ever  look  in  the  mirror  when  you  were 
talking,  Pollyanna  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  of  course  not !  " 


A  Matter  of  Adjustment  187 

"  Well,  you'd  better  try  it  sometime." 

"  What  a  funny  idea !  Imagine  my  doing  it," 
laughed  the  girl.  "  What  shall  I  say?  Like  this? 
'  Now,  you,  Polly  anna,  what  if  your  eyelashes  aren't 
long,  and  your  nose  is  just  a  nose,  be  glad  you've  got 
some  eyelashes  and  some  nose ! ' 

Pendleton  joined  in  her  laugh,  but  an  odd  expres 
sion  came  to  his  face. 

"  Then  you  still  play  —  the  game,"  he  said,  a  little 
diffidently. 

Pollyanna  turned  soft  eyes  of  wonder  full  upon  him. 

"  Why,  of  course !  Why,  Jimmy,  I  don't  believe  I 
could  have  lived  —  the  last  six  months  —  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  blessed  game."  Her  voice  shook  a  little. 

"  I  haven't  heard  you  say  much  about  it,"  he  com 
mented. 

She  changed  color. 

"  I  know.  I  think  I'm  afraid  —  of  saying  too 
much  —  to  outsiders,  who  don't  care,  you  know.  It 
wouldn't  sound  quite  the  same  from  me  now,  at  twenty, 
as  it  did  when  I  was  ten.  I  realize  that,  of  course. 
Folks  don't  like  to  be  preached  at,  you  know,"  she 
finished  with  a  whimsical  smile. 

"  I  know,"  nodded  the  young  fellow  gravely.  "  But 
I  wonder  sometimes,  Pollyanna,  if  you  really  under 
stand  yourself  what  that  game  is,  and  what  it  has 
done  for  those  who  are  playing  it." 

"  I  know  —  what  it  has  done  for  myself."  Her 
voice  was  low,  and  her  eyes  were  turned  away. 

"  You  see,  it  really  works,  if  you  play  it,"  he  mused 
aloud,  after  a  short  silence.  "  Somebody  said  once 


188  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

that  it  would  revolutionize  the  world  if  everybody 
would  really  play  it.    And  I  believe  it  would." 

"Yes;  but  some  folks  don't  want  to  be  revolu 
tionized/'  smiled  Pollyanna.  "  I  ran  across  a  man  in 
Germany  last  year.  He  had  lost  his  money,  and  was 
in  hard  luck  generally.  Dear,  dear,  but  he  was 
rloomy!  Somebody  in  my  presence  tried  to  cheer 
him  up  one  day  by  saying,  '  Come,  come,  things  might 
be  worse,  you  know ! '  Dear,  dear,  but  you  should 
have  heard  that  man  then! 

'  If  there  is  anything  on  earth  that  makes  me  mad 
clear  through/  he  snarled,  *  it  is  to  be  told  that  things 
might  be  worse,  and  to  be  thankful  for  what  I've  got 
left.  These  people  who  go  around  with  an  everlasting 
grin  on  their  faces  caroling  forth  that  they  are  thank 
ful  that  they  can  breathe,  or  eat,  or  walk,  or  lie  down,. 
I  have  no  use  for.  I  don't  want  to  breathe,  or  eat, 
or  walk,  or  lie  down  —  if  things  are  as  they  are  now 
with  me.  And  when  I'm  told  that  I  ought  to  be  thank 
ful  for  some  such  tommy  rot  as  that,  it  makes  me  just 
want  to  go  out  and  shoot  somebody ! '  Imagine  what 
I'd  have  gotten  if  I'd  have  introduced  the  glad  game 
to  that  man !  "  laughed  Pollyanna. 

"  I  don't  care.     He  needed  it/'  answered  Jimmy. 

"Of  course  he  did  —  but  he  wouldn't  have  thanked 
me  for  giving  it  to  him." 

"  I  suppose  not.  But,  listen !  As  he  was,  under  his 
present  philosophy  and  scheme  of  living,  he  made  him 
self  and  everybody  else  wretched,  didn't  he?  Well,. 
just  suppose  he  was  playing  the  game.  While  he  was 
trying  to  hunt  up  something  to  be  glad  about  in  every- 


A  Matter  of  Adjustment  189 

thing  that  had  happened  to  him,  he  couldn't  be  at  the 
same  time  grumbling  and  growling  about  how  bad 
things  were ;  so  that  much  would  be  gained.  He'd  be 
a  whole  lot  easier  to  live  with,  both  for  himself  and 
for  his  friends.  Meanwhile,  just  thinking  of  the 
doughnut  instead  of  the  hole  couldn't  make  things 
any  worse  for  him,  and  it  might  make  things  better; 
for  it  wouldn't  give  him  such  a  gone  feeling  in  the  pit 
of  his  stomach,  and  his  digestion  would  be  better.  I 
tell  you,  troubles  are  poor  things  to  hug.  They've 
got  too  many  prickers." 

Pollyanna  smiled  appreciatively. 

"  That  makes  me  think  of  what  I  told  a  poor  old 
lady  once.  She  was  one  of  my  Ladies'  Aiders  out 
West,  and  was  one  of  the  kind  of  people  that  really 
enjoys  being  miserable  and  telling  over  her  causes  for 
unhappiness.  I  was  perhaps  ten  years  old,  and  was 
trying  to  teach  her  the  game.  I  reckon  I  wasn't 
having  very  good  success,  and  evidently  I  at  last  dimly 
realized  the  reason,  for  I  said  to  her  triumphantly: 
4  Well,  anyhow,  you  can  be  glad  you've  got  such  a 
lot  of  things  to  make  you  miserable,  for  you  love  to 
be  miserable  so  well ! '  " 

"  Well,  if  that  wasn't  a  good  one  on  her,"  chuckled 
Jimmy. 

Pollyanna  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  I'm  afraid  she  didn't  enjoy  it  any  more  than  the 
man  in  Germany  would  have  if  I'd  told  him  the  same 
thing." 

"  But  they  ought  to  be  told,  and  you  ought  to 
tell  —  "  Pendleton  stopped  short  with  so  queer  an 


190  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

expression  on  his  face  that  Pollyanna  looked  at  him 
in  surprise. 

"  Why,  Jimmy,  what  is  it?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  was  only  thinking,"  he  answered, 
puckering  his  lips.  "  Here  I  am  urging  you  to  do  the 
very  thing  I  was  afraid  you  would  do  before  I  saw  you, 
you  know.  That  is,  I  was  afraid  before  I  saw  you, 
that  —  that  —  He  floundered  into  a  helpless  pause, 
looking  very  red  indeed. 

"  Well,  Jimmy  Pendleton,"  bridled  the  girl,  "  you 
needn't  think  you  can  stop  there,  sir.  Now  just  what 
do  you  mean  by  all  that,  please  ?  " 

"Oh,  er  —  n-nothing,  much." 

"  I'm  waiting,"  murmured  Pollyanna.  Voice  and 
manner  were  calm  and  confident,  though  the  eyes 
twinkled  mischievously. 

The  young  fellow  hesitated,  glanced  at  her  smiling 
face,  and  capitulated. 

"Oh,  well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  he  shrugged. 
"  It's  only  that  I  was  worrying  —  a  little  —  about 
that  game,  for  fear  you  would  talk  it  just  as  you  used 
to,  you  know,  and  —  "  But  a  merry  peal  of  laughter 
interrupted  him. 

"  There,  what  did  I  tell  you?  Even  you  were  wor 
ried,  it  seems,  lest  I  should  be  at  twenty  just  what  I 
was  at  ten !  " 

"  N-no,  I  didn't  mean  —  Pollyanna,  honestly,  I 
thought  —  of  course  I  knew  —  '  But  Pollyanna  only 
put  her  hands  to  her  ears  and  went  off  into  another 
peal  of  laughter. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

TWO    LETTERS 

IT  was  toward  the  latter  part  of  June  that  the 
letter  came  to  Pollyanna  from  Delia  Wetherby. 

"  I  am  writing  to  ask  you  a  favor,"  Miss  Wetherby 
wrote.  "  I  am  hoping  you  can  tell  me  of  some  quiet 
private  family  in  Beldingsville  that  will  be  willing  to 
take  my  sister  to  board  for  the  summer.  There  would 
be  three  of  them,  Mrs.  Carew,  her  secretary,  and  her 
adopted  son,  Jamie.  (You  remember  Jamie,  don't 
you?)  They  do  not  like  to  go  to  an  ordinary  hotel 
or  boarding  house.  My  sister  is  very  tired,  and  the 
doctor  has  advised  her  to  go  into  the  country  for  a 
complete  rest  and  change.  He  suggested  Vermont  or 
New  Hampshire.  We  immediately  thought  of  Bel 
dingsville  and  you;  and  we  wondered  if  you  couldn't 
recommend  just  the  right  place  to  us.  I  told  Ruth  I 
would  write  you.  They  would  like  to  go  right  away, 
early  in  July,  if  possible.  Would  it  be  asking  too 
much  to  request  you  to  let  us  know  as  soon  as  you 
conveniently  can  if  you  do  know  of  a  place?  Please 
address  me  here.  My  sister  is  with  us  here  at  the 
Sanatorium  for  a  few  weeks'  treatment. 

"  Hoping  for  a  favorable  reply,  I  am, 
"  Most  cordially  yours, 

"BELLA  WETHERBY." 

191 


192  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

For  the  first  few  minutes  after  the  letter  was 
finished,  Pollyanna  sat  with  frowning  brow,  mentally 
searching  the  homes  of  Beldingsville  for  a  possible 
hoarding  house  for  her  old  friends.  Then  a  sudden 
something  gave  her  thoughts  a  new  turn,  and  with 
a  joyous  exclamation  she  hurried  to  her  aunt  in  the 
living-room. 

"  Auntie,  auntie,"  she  panted ;  "  I've  got  just  the 
loveliest  idea.  I  told  you  something  would  happen, 
and  that  I'd  develop  that  wonderful  talent  sometime. 
Well,  I  have.  I  have  right  now.  Listen !  I've  had  a 
letter  from  Miss  Wetherby,  Mrs.  Carew's  sister  — 
where  I  stayed  that  winter  in  Boston,  you  know  — 
and  they  want  to  come  into  the  country  to  board 
for  the  summer,  and  Miss  Wetherby's  written  to 
see  if  I  didn't  know  a  place  for  them.  They 
don't  want  a  hotel  or  an  ordinary  boarding  house, 
you  see.  And  at  first  I  didn't  know  of  one;  but 
now  I  do.  I  do,  Aunt  Polly!  Just  guess  where 
'tis." 

"  Dear  me,  child,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Chilton,  "  how 
you  do  run  on!  I  should  think  you  were  a  dozen 
years  old  instead  of  a  woman  grown.  Now  what  are 
you  talking  about?" 

"  About  a  boarding  place  for  Mrs.  Carew  and 
Jamie.  I've  found  it,"  babbled  Pollyanna. 

"Indeed!  Well,  what  of  it?  Of  what  possible 
interest  can  that  be  to  me,  child?"  murmured  Mrs. 
Chilton,  drearily. 

"  Because  it's  here.  I'm  go»n?  to  have  them  here, 
auntie." 


Two  Letters  193 


"  Pollyanna !  "  Mrs.  Chilton  was  sitting  erect  in 
horror. 

"  Now,  auntie,  please  don't  say  no  —  please  don't/' 
begged  Pollyanna,  eagerly.  "  Don't  you  see  ?  This 
is  my  chance,  the  chance  I've  been  waiting  for;  and 
It's  just  dropped  right  into  my  hands.  We  can  do  it 
lovely.  We  have  plenty  of  room,  and  you  know  I 
can  cook  and  keep  house.  And  now  there'd  be  money 
in  it,  for  they'd  pay  well,  I  know ;  and  they'd  love  to 
come,  I'm  sure.  There'd  be  three  of  them  —  there's 
a  secretary  with  them." 

"  But,  Pollyanna,  I  can't !  Turn  this  house  into  a 
boarding  house  ?  —  the  Harrington  homestead  a  com 
mon  boarding  house?  Oh,  Pollyanna,  I  can't,  I 
can't!" 

"  But  it  wouldn't  be  a  common  boarding  house, 
dear.  'Twill  be  an  uncommon  one.  Besides,  they're 
our  friends.  It  would  be  like  having  our  friends  come 
to  see  us;  only  they'd  be  paying  guests,  so  mean 
while  we'd  be  earning  money  —  money  that  we  need, 
auntie,  money  that  we  need,"  she  emphasized  sig 
nificantly. 

A  spasm  of  hurt  pride  crossed  Polly  Chilton's  face. 
With  a  low  moan  she  fell  back  in  her  chair. 

"But  how  could  you  do  it?"  she  asked  at  last, 
faintly.  "You  couldn't  do  the  work  part  alone,  child!'5 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not,"  chirped  Pollyanna.  (Pol-: 
lyanna  was  on  sure  ground  now.  She  knew  her 
point  was  won. )  "  But  I  could  do  the  cooking  and 
the  overseeing,  and  I'm  sure  I  could  get  one  of 
Nancy's  younger  sisters  to  help  about  the  rest.  Mrs.; 


194  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Durgin  would  do  the  laundry  part  just  as  she  does 
now/' 

"  But,  Pollyanna,  I'm  not  well  at  all  —  you  know 
I'm  not.  I  couldn't  do  much." 

"  Of  course  not.  There's  no  reason  why  you 
should,"  scorned  Pollyanna,  loftily.  "  Oh,  auntie, 
won't  it  be  splendid?  Why,  it  seems  too  good  to 
foe  true  —  money  just  dropped  into  my  hands  like 
that!" 

"  Dropped  into  your  hands,  indeed !  You  still  have 
some  things  to  learn  in  this  world,  Pollyanna,  and  one 
is  that  summer  boarders  don't  drop  money  into  any 
body's  hands  without  looking  very  sharply  to  it  that 
they  get  ample  return.  By  the  time  you  fetch  and 
carry  and  bake  and  brew  until  you  are  ready  to  sink, 
and  by  the  time  you  nearly  kill  yourself  trying  to  serve 
•everything  to  order  from  fresh-laid  eggs  to  the 
>veather,  you  will  believe  what  I  tell  you." 

"All  right,  I'll  remember,"  laughed  Pollyanna. 
"  But  I'm  not  doing  any  worrying  now ;  and  I'm 
going  to  hurry  and  write  Miss  Wetherby  at  once  so  I 
can  give  it  to  Jimmy  Bean  to  mail  when  he  comes  out 
this  afternoon." 

Mrs.  Chilton  stirred  restlessly. 

"  Pollyanna,  I  do  wish  you'd  call  that  young  man 
t>y  his  proper  name.  That  '  Bean '  gives  me  the 
Shivers.  His  name  is  '  Pendleton '  now,  as  I  under 
stand  it." 

"  So  it  is,"  agreed  Pollyanna,  "  but  I  do  forget  ft 
half  the  time.  I  even  call  him  that  to  his  face,  some 
times,  and  of  course  that's  dreadful,  when  he  really 


Two  Letters  195 


is  adopted,  and  all.  But  you  see  I'm  so  excited,"  she 
finished,  as  she  danced  from  the  room. 

She  had  the  letter  all  ready  for  Jimmy  when  he 
called  at  four  o'clock.  She  was  still  quivering  with; 
excitement,  and  she  lost  no  time  in  telling  her  visitor 
what  it  was  all  about. 

"  And  I'm  crazy  to  see  them,  besides,"  she  cried, 
when  she  had  told  him  of  her  plans.  "  I've  never 
seen  either  of  them  since  that  winter.  You  know  I 
told  you  —  didn't  I  tell  you?  —  about  Jamie." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  told  me."  There  was  a  touch  of 
constraint  in  the  young  man's  voice. 

"  Well,  isn't  it  splendid,  if  they  can  come?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  as  I  should  call  it  exactly 
splendid,"  he  parried. 

"  Not  splendid  that  I've  got  such  a  chance  to  help 
Aunt  Polly  out,  for  even  this  little  while?  Why, 
Jimmy,  of  course  it's  splendid." 

"Well,  it  strikes  me  that  it's  going  to  be  rather 
hard  —  for  you,"  bridled  Jimmy,  with  more  than  a 
shade  of  irritation. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  in  some  ways.  But  I  shall  be  so* 
glad  for  the  money  coming  in  that  I'll  think  of  that 
all  the  time.  You  see,"  she  sighed,  "  how  mercenary 
I  am,  Jimmy." 

For  a  long  minute  there  was  no  reply ;  then,  a  little 
abruptly,  the  young  man  asked: 

"  Let's  see,  how  old  is  this  Jamie  now  ?  " 

Pollyanna  glanced  up  with  a  merry  smile. 

"  Oh,  I  remember  —  you  never  did  like  his  name, 
'  Jamie,'  "  she  twinkled.  "  Never  mind ;  he's  adopted 


196  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

now,  legally,  I  believe,  and  has  taken  the  name  of 
Carew.  So  you  can  call  him  that." 

"  But  that  isn't  telling  me  how  old  he  is,"  reminded 
Jimmy,  stiffly. 

"  Nobody  knows,  exactly,  I  suppose.  You  know  he 
couldn't  tell;  but  I  imagine  he's  about  your  age.  I 
wonder  how  he  is  now.  I've  asked  all  about  it  in  this 
letter,  anyway." 

"  Oh,  you  have ! "  Pendleton  looked  down  at  the 
letter  in  his  hand  and  flipped  it  a  little  spitefully.  He 
was  thinking  that  he  would  like  to  drop  it,  to  tear  it 
tip,  to  give  it  to  somebody,  to  throw  it  away,  to  do 
anything  with  it  —  but  mail  it. 

Jimmy  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  was  jealous,  that 
he  always  had  been  jealous  of  this  youth  with  the 
name  so  like  and  yet  so  unlike  his  own.  Not  that  he 
was  in  love  with  Pollyanna,  he  assured  himself  wrath- 
fully.  He  was  not  that,  of  course.  It  was  just  that 
he  did  not  care  to  have  this  strange  youth  with  the 
sissy  name  come  to  Beldingsville  and  be  always  around 
to  spoil  all  their  good  times.  He  almost  said  as  much 
to  Pollyanna,  but  something  stayed  the  words  on  his 
lips ;  and  after  a  time  he  took  his  leave,  carrying  the 
letter  with  him. 

That  Jimmy  did  not  drop  the  letter,  tear  it  up, 
give  it  to  anybody,  or  throw  it  away  was  evidenced  a 
few  days  later,  for  Pollyanna  received  a  prompt  and 
delighted  reply  from  Miss  Wetherby;  and  when 
Jimmy  came  next  time  he  heard  it  read  —  or  rather 
he  heard  part  of  it,  for  Pollyanna  prefaced  the  read 
ing  by  saying: 


Two  Letters  197 


"  Of  course  the  first  part  is  just  where  she  says 
how  glad  they  are  to  come,  and  all  that.  I  won't  read 
that.  But  the  rest  I  thought  you'd  like  to  hear,  be 
cause  you've  heard  me  talk  so  much  about  them.  Be 
sides,  you'll  know  them  yourself  pretty  soon,  of 
course.  I'm  depending  a  whole  lot  on  you,  Jimmy, 
to  help  me  make  it  pleasant  for  them." 

"Oh,  are  you!" 

"  Now  don't  be  sarcastic,  just  because  you  don't 
like  Jamie's  name,"  reproved  Pollyanna,  with  mock 
severity.  "  You'll  like  him,  I'm  sure,  when  you  know 
him;  and  you'll  love  Mrs.  Carew." 

"  Will  I,  indeed?  "  retorted  Jimmy  huffily.  "  Well, 
that  is  a  serious  prospect.  Let  us  hope,  if  I  do,  the 
lady  will  be  so  gracious  as  to  reciprocate." 

"  Of  course,"  dimpled  Pollyanna.  "  Now  listen, 
and  I'll  read  to  you  about  her.  This  letter  is  from 
her  sister,  Delia  —  Miss  Wetherby,  you  know,  at  the 
Sanatorium." 

"  All  right.  Go  ahead ! "  directed  Jimmy,  with  a 
somewhat  too  evident  attempt  at  polite  interest.  And 
Pollyanna,  still  smiling  mischievously,  began  to  read. 

"  You  ask  me  to  tell  you  everything  about  every 
body.  That  is  a  large  commission,  but  I'll  do  the 
best  I  can.  To  begin  with,  I  think  you'll  find  my  sister 
quite  changed.  The  new  interests  that  have  come  into 
her  life  during  the  last  six  years  have  done  wonders 
for  her.  Just  now  she  is  a  bit  thin  and  tired  from 
overwork,  but  a  good  rest  will  soon  remedy  that,  and 
you'll  see  how  young  and  blooming  and  happy  she 
looks.  Please  notice  I  said  happy.  That  won't  mean 


198  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

so  much  to  you  as  it  does  to  me,  of  course,  for  you 
were  too  young  to  realize  quite  how  unhappy  she  was 
when  you  first  knew  her  that  winter  in  Boston.  Life 
was  such  a  dreary,  hopeless  thing  to  her  then;  and 
now  it  is  so  full  of  interest  and  joy. 

"  First  she  has  Jamie,  and  when  you  see  them  to 
g-ether  you  won't  need  to  be  told  what  he  is  to  her. 
To  be  sure,  we  are  no  nearer  knowing  whether  he  is 
the  real  Jamie,  or  not,  but  my  sister  loves  him  like  an 
own  son  now,  and  has  legally  adopted  him,  as  I  pre 
sume  you  know. 

"  Then  she  has  her  girls.  Do  you  remember  Sadie 
Dean,  the  salesgirl?  Well,  from  getting  interested  in 
her,  and  trying  to  help  her  to  a  happier  living,  my 
sister  has  broadened  her  efforts  little  by  little,  until 
she  has  scores  of  girls  now  who  regard  her  as  their 
own  best  and  particular  good  angel.  She  has  started 
a  Home  for  Working  Girls  along  new  lines.  Half  a 
dozen  wealthy  and  influential  men  and  women  are 
associated  with  her,  of  course,  but  she  is  head  and 
shoulders  of  the  whole  thing,  and  never  hesitates  to 
give  herself  to  each  and  every  one  of  the  girls.  You 
can  imagine  what  that  means  in  nerve  strain.  Her 
chief  support  and  right-hand  man  is  her  secretary, 
this  same  Sadie  Dean.  You'll  find  her  changed,  too, 
yet  she  is  the  same  old  Sadie. 

"  As  for  Jamie  —  poor  Jamie !  The  great  sorrow 
of  his  life  is  that  he  knows  now  he  can  never  walk. 
For  a  time  we  all  had  hopes.  He  was  here  at  the 
Sanatorium  under  Dr.  Ames  for  a  year,  and  he  im 
proved  to  such  an  extent  that  he  can  go  now  with 


Two  Letters  199 


crutches.  But  the  poor  boy  will  always  be  a  cripple  — 
so  far  as  his  feet  are  concerned,  but  never  as  regards 
anything  else.  Someway,  after  you  know  Jamie,  you 
seldom  think  of  him  as  a  cripple,  his  soul  is  so  free. 
I  can't  explain  it,  but  you'll  know  what  I  mean  when 
you  see  him;  and  he  has  retained,  to  a  marvelous  de 
gree,  his  old  boyish  enthusiasm  and  joy  of  living. 
There  is  just  one  thing  —  and  only  one,  I  believe  — 
that  would  utterly  quench  that  bright  spirit  and  cast 
him  into  utter  despair;  and  that  is  to  find  that  he  is 
not  Jamie  Kent,  our  nephew.  So  long  has  he  brooded 
over  this,  and  so  ardently  has  he  wished  it,  that  he 
has  come  actually  to  believe  that  he  is  the  real 
Jamie;  but  if  he  isn't,  I  hope  he  will  never  find  it 
out." 

"  There,  that's  all  she  says  about  them,"  announced 
Pollyanna,  folding  up  the  closely-written  sheets  in  her 
hands.  "  But  isn't  that  interesting?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is !  "  There  was  a  ring  of  genuineness 
in  Jimmy's  voice  now.  Jimmy  was  thinking  suddenly 
of  what  his  own  good  legs  meant  to  him.  He  even, 
for  the  moment,  was  willing  that  this  poor  crippled 
youth  should  have  a  part  of  Pollyanna's  thoughts  and 
attentions,  if  he  were  not  so  presuming  as  to  claim 
too  much  of  them,  of  course !  "  By  George !  it  is 
tough  for  the  poor  chap,  and  no  mistake." 

"  Tough !  You  don't  know  anything  about  it, 
Jimmy  Bean,"  choked  Pollyanna;  "but  /  do.  / 
couldn't  walk  once.  /  know!" 

'''  Yes,  of  course,  of  course,"  frowned  the  youth, 
moving  restively  in  his  seat.  Jimmy,  looking  into 


200  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Polly  anna's  sympathetic  face  and  brimming  eyes  was 
suddenly  not  so  sure,  after  all,  that  he  was  willing 
to  have  this  Jamie  come  to  town  —  if  just  to  think  of 
him  made  Pollyanna  look  like  that! 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE   PAYING   GUESTS 

THE  few  intervening  days  before  the  expected  ar 
rival  of  "  those  dreadful  people,"  as  Aunt  Polly 
termed  her  niece's  paying  guests,  were  busy  ones  in- 
iked  for  Pollyanna  —  but  they  were  happy  ones,  too, 
as  Pollyanna  refused  to  be  weary,  or  discouraged,  or 
dismayed,  no  matter  how  puzzling  were  the  daily 
problems  she  had  to  meet. 

Summoning  Nancy,  and  Nancy's  younger  sister, 
Betty,  to  her  aid,  Pollyanna  systematically  went 
through  the  house,  room  by  room,  and  arranged  for 
the  comfort  and  convenience  of  her  expected  boarders. 
Mrs.  Chilton  could  do  but  little  to  assist.  In  the  first 
place  she  was  not  well.  In  the  second  place  her  mental 
attitude  toward  the  whole  idea  was  not  conducive  to 
aid  or  comfort,  for  at  her  side  stalked  always  the 
Harrington  pride  of  name  and  race,  and  on  her  lips 
was  the  constant  moan : 

"  Oh,  Pollyanna,  Pollyanna,  to  think  of  the  Har 
rington  homestead  ever  coming  to  this !  " 

"  It  isn't,  dearie,"  Pollyanna  at  last  soothed  laugh 
ingly.  "  It's  the  Carews  that  are  coming  to  the  Har 
rington  homestead!" 

But  Mrs.  Chilton  was  not  to  be  so  lightly  diverted, 
and  responded  only  with  a  scornful  glance  and  a 

201 


202  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

deeper  sigh,  so  Pollyanna  was  forced  to  leave  her  to 
travel  alone  her  road  of  determined  gloom. 

Upon  the  appointed  day,  Pollyanna  with  Timothy 
(who  owned  the  Harrington  horses  now)  went  to  the 
station  to  meet  the  afternoon  train.  Up  to  this  hour 
there  had  been  nothing  but  confidence  and  joyous  an 
ticipation  in  Pollyanna's  heart.  But  with  the  whistle 
of  the  engine  there  came  to  her  a  veritable  panic  of 
doubt,  shyness,  and  dismay.  She  realized  suddenly 
what  she,  Pollyanna,  almost  alone  and  unaided,  was 
about  to  do.  She  remembered  Mrs.  Carew's  wealth, 
position,  and  fastidious  tastes.  She  recollected,  too, 
that  this  would  be  a  new,  tall,  young-man  Jamie,  quite 
unlike  the  boy  she  had  known. 

For  one  awful  moment  she  thought  only  of  getting 
away  - —  somewhere,  anywhere. 

"  Timothy,  I  —  I  feel  sick.  I'm  not  well.  I  —  tell 
'em  —  er  —  not  to  come,"  she  faltered,  poising  as  if 
for  flight. 

"  Ma'am !  "  exclaimed  the  startled  Timothy. 

One  glance  into  Timothy's  amazed  face  was 
enough.  Pollyanna  laughed  and  threw  back  her 
shoulders  alertly. 

"  Nothing.  Never  mind !  I  didn't  mean  it,  of 
course,  Timothy.  Quick  —  see!  They're  almost 
here,"  she  panted.  And  Pollyanna  hurried  forward, 
quite  herself  once  more. 

She  knew  them  at  once.  Even  had  there  been  any 
doubt  in  her  mind,  the  crutches  in  the  hands  of  the 
tall,  brown-eyed  young  man  would  have  piloted  her 
straight  to  her  goal. 


The  Paying  Guests  203 

There  were  a  brief  few  minutes  of  eager  hand 
clasps  and  incoherent  exclamations,  then,  somehow, 
she  found  herself  in  the  carriage  with  Mrs.  Carew  at 
her  side,  and  Jamie  and  Sadie  Dean  in  front.  She  had 
a  chance,  then,  for  the  first  time,  really  to  see  her 
friends,  and  to  note  the  changes  the  six  years  had 
wrought. 

In  regard  to  Mrs.  Carew,  her  first  feeling  was  one 
of  surprise.  She  had  forgotten  that  Mrs.  Carew  was 
so  lovely.  She  had  forgotten  that  the  eyelashes  were 
so  long,  that  the  eyes  they  shaded  were  so  beautiful. 
She  even  caught  herself  thinking  enviously  of  how 
exactly  that  perfect  face  must  tally,  figure  by  figure, 
with  that  dread  beauty-test-table.  But  more  than  any 
thing  else  she  rejoiced  in  the  absence  of  the  old  fret 
ful  lines  of  gloom  and  bitterness. 

Then  she  turned  to  Jamie.  Here  again  she  was 
surprised,  and  for  much  the  same  reason.  Jamie,  too, 
had  grown  handsome.  To  herself  Pollyanna  declared 
that  he  was  really  distinguished  looking.  His  dark 
eyes,  rather  pale  face,  and  dark,  waving  hair  she 
thought  most  attractive.  Then  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  crutches  at  his  side,  and  a  spasm  of  aching 
sympathy  contracted  her  throat. 

From  Jamie  Pollyanna  turned  to  Sadie  Dean. 
Sadie,  so  far  as  features  went,  looked  much  as  she  had 
when  Pollyanna  first  saw  her  in  the  Public  Garden; 
but  Pollyanna  did  not  need  a  second  glance  to  know 
that  Sadie,  so  far  as  hair,  dress,  temper,  speech,  and 
disposition  were  concerned,  was  a  very  different  Sadie 
indeed. 


204  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Then  Jamie  spoke. 

"  How  good  you  were  to  let  us  come,"  he  said  to 
Pollyanna.  "  Do  you  know  what  I  thought  of  when 
you  wrote  that  we  could  come  ?  " 

"  Why,  n-no,  of  course  not,"  stammered  Pollyanna. 
Pollyanna  was  still  seeing  the  crutches  at  Jamie's  side, 
and  her  throat  was  still  tightened  from  that  aching 
sympathy. 

"  Well,  I  thought  of  the  little  maid  in  the  Public 
Garden  with  her  bag  of  peanuts  for  Sir  Lancelot  and 
Lady  Guinevere,  and  I  knew  that  you  were  just  putting 
us  in  their  places,  for  if  you  had  a  bag  of  peanuts, 
and  we  had  none,  you  wouldn't  be  happy  till  you'd 
shared  it  with  us." 

"  A  bag  of  peanuts,  indeed !  "  laughed  Pollyanna. 

"  Oh,  of  course  in  this  case,  your  bag  of  peanuts 
happened  to  be  airy  country  rooms,  and  cow's  milk, 
and  real  eggs  from  a  real  hen's  nest,"  returned  Jamie 
whimsically;  "  but  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing.  And 
maybe  I'd  better  warn  you  —  you  remember  how 
greedy  Sir  Lancelot  was;  —  well  —  "  He  paused 
meaningly. 

"  All  right,  I'll  take  the  risk,"  dimpled  Pollyanna, 
thinking  how  glad  she  was  that  Aunt  Polly  was  not 
present  to  hear  her  worst  predictions  so  nearly  fulfilled 
thus  early.  "  Poor  Sir  Lancelot !  I  wonder  if  any 
body  feeds  him  now,  or  if  he's  there  at  all." 

"Well,  if  he's  there,  he's  fed,"  interposed  Mrs. 
Carew,  merrily.  "  This  ridiculous  boy  still  goes  down 
there  at  least  once  a  week  with  his  pockets  bulging 
with  peanuts  and  I  don't  know  what  all.  He  can  be 


The  Paying  Guests  205 

traced  any  time  by  the  trail  of  small  grains  he  leaves 
behind  him;  and  half  the  time,  when  I  order  my  cereal 
for  breakfast  it  isn't  forthcoming,  because,  forsooth, 
'  Master  Jamie  has  fed  it  to  the  pigeons,  ma'am ! '  " 

"  Yes,  but  let  me  tell  you,"  plunged  in  Jamie,  en 
thusiastically.  And  the  next  minute  Pollyanna  found 
herself  listening  with  all  the  old  fascination  to  a  story 
of  a  couple  of  squirrels  in  a  sunlit  garden.  Later  she 
saw  what  Delia  Wetherby  had  meant  in  her  letter, 
for  when  the  house  was  reached,  it  came  as  a  distinct 
shock  to  her  to  see  Jamie  pick  up  his  crutches  and 
swing  himself  out  of  the  carriage  with  their  aid.  She 
knew  then  that  already  in  ten  short  minutes  he  had 
made  her  forget  that  he  was  lame. 

To  Pollyanna's  great  relief  that  first  dreaded  meet 
ing  between  Aunt  Polly  and  the  Carew  party  passed 
off  much  better  than  she  had  feared.  The  newcomers 
were  so  frankly  delighted  with  the  old  house  and 
everything  in  it,  that  it  was  an  utter  impossibility  for 
the  mistress  and  owner  of  it  all  to  continue  her  stiff 
attitude  of  disapproving  resignation  to  their  presence. 
Besides,  as  was  plainly  evident  before  an  hour  had 
passed,  the  personal  charm  and  magnetism  of  Jamie 
had  pierced  even  Aunt  Polly's  armor  of  distrust; 
and  Pollyanna  knew  that  at  least  one  of  her  own 
most  dreaded  problems  was  a  problem  no  longer,  for 
already  Aunt  Polly  was  beginning  to  play  the  stately, 
yet  gracious  hostess  to  these,  her  guests. 

Notwithstanding  her  relief  at  Aunt  Polly's  change 
of  attitude,  however,  Pollyanna  did  not  find  that  all 
was  smooth  sailing,  by  any  means.  There  was  work, 


206  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

and  plenty  of  it,  that  must  be  done.  Nancy's  sister, 
Betty,  was  pleasant  and  willing,  but  she  was  not 
Nancy,  as  Pollyanna  soon  found.  She  needed  train 
ing,  and  training  took  time.  Pollyanna  worried,  too, 
for  fear  everything  should  not  be  quite  right.  To 
Pollyanna,  those  days,  a  dusty  chair  was  a  crime  and 
a  fallen  cake  a  tragedy. 

Gradually,  however,  after  incessant  arguments  and 
pleadings  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Carew  and  Jamie,  Pol 
lyanna  came  to  take  her  tasks  more  easily,  and  to 
realize  that  the  real  crime  and  tragedy  in  her  friends' 
eyes  was,  not  the  dusty  chair  nor  the  fallen  cake, 
but  the  frown  of  worry  and  anxiety  on  her  own 
face. 

"  Just  as  if  it  wasn't  enough  for  you  to  let  us  come," 
Jamie  declared,  "  without  just  killing  yourself  with 
work  to  get  us  something  to  eat." 

"  Besides,  we  ought  not  to  eat  so  much,  anyway," 
Mrs.  Carew  laughed,  "  or  else  we  shall  get '  digestion/ 
as  one  of  my  girls  calls  it  when  her  food  disagrees 
with  her." 

It  was  wonderful,  after  all,  how  easily  the  three 
new  members  of  the  family  fitted  into  the  daily  life. 
Before  twenty-four  hours  had  passed,  Mrs.  Carew  had 
gotten  Mrs.  Chilton  to  asking  really  interested  ques 
tions  about  the  new  Home  for  Working  Girls,  and 
Sadie  Dean  and  Jamie  were  quarreling  over  the  chance 
to  help  with  the  pea-shelling  or  the  flower-picking. 

The  Carews  had  been  at  the  Harrington  homestead 
nearly  a  week  when  one  evening  John  Pendleton  and 
Jimmy  called.  Pollyanna  had  been  hoping  they  would 


The  Paying  Guests  207 

come  soon.  She  had,  indeed,  urged  it  very  strongly 
before  the  Carews  came.  She  made  the  introductions 
now  with  visible  pride. 

"  You  are  such  good  friends  of  mine,  I  want  you  to 
know  each  other,  and  be  good  friends  together,"  she 
explained. 

That  Jimmy  and  Mr.  Pendleton  should  be  clearly 
impressed  with  the  charm  and  beauty  of  Mrs.  Carew 
did  not  surprise  Pollyanna  in  the  least;  but  the  look 
that  came  into  Mrs.  Carew's  face  at  sight  of  Jimmy 
did  surprise  her  very  much.  It  was  almost  a  look  of 
recognition. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Pendleton,  haven't  I  met  you  before?  " 
Mrs.  Carew  cried. 

Jimmy's  frank  eyes  met  Mrs.  Carew's  gaze  squarely, 
admiringly. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  smiled  back  at  her.  "  I'm  sure  I 
never  have  met  you.  I  should  have  remembered  it  — 
if  /  had  met  you"  he  bowed. 

So  unmistakable  was  his  significant  emphasis  that 
everybody  laughed,  and  John  Pendleton  chuckled: 

"  Well  done,  son  —  for  a  youth  of  your  tender 
years.  I  couldn't  have  done  half  so  well  myself." 

Mrs.  Carew  flushed  slightly  and  joined  in  the  laugh. 

"  No,  but  really,"  she  urged ;  "  joking  aside,  there 
certainly  is  a  strangely  familiar  something  in  your 
face.  I  think  I  must  have  seen  you  somewhere,  if  I 
haven't  actually  met  you." 

"  And  maybe  you  have,"  cried  Pollyanna,  "  in  Bos 
ton.  Jimmy  goes  to  Tech  there  winters,  you  know. 
Jimmy's  going  to  build  bridges  and  dams,  you  see  — 


208  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

when  he  grows  up,  I  mean,"  she  finished  with  a  merry 
glance  at  the  big  six-foot  fellow  still  standing  before 
Mrs.  Carew. 

Everybody  laughed  again  —  that  is,  everybody  but 
Jamie;  and  only  Sadie  Dean  noticed  that  Jamie,  in 
stead  of  laughing,  closed  his  eyes  as  if  at  the  sight  of 
something  that  hurt.  And  only  Sadie  Dean  knew  how 
—  and  why  —  the  subject  was  so  quickly  changed,  for 
it  was  Sadie  herself  who  changed  it.  It  was  Sadie, 
too,  who,  when  the  opportunity  came,  saw  to  it  that 
books  and  flowers  and  beasts  and  birds  —  things  that 
Jamie  knew  and  understood  —  were  talked  about  as 
well  as  dams  and  bridges  which  (as  Sadie  knew), 
Jamie  could  never  build.  That  Sadie  did  all  this, 
however,  was  not  realized  by  anybody,  least  of  all  by 
Jamie,  the  one  who  most  of  all  was  concerned. 

When  the  call  was  over  and  the  Pendletons  had 
gone,  Mrs.  Carew  referred  again  to  the  curiously 
haunting  feeling  that  somewhere  she  had  seen  young 
Pendleton  before. 

"  I  have,  I  know  I  have  —  somewhere,"  she  de 
clared  musingly.  "Of  course  it  may  have  been  in 
Boston;  but  — "  She  let  the  sentence  remain  un 
finished;  then,  after  a  minute  she  added:  "He's  a 
fine  young  fellow,  anyway.  I  like  him." 

"  I'm  so  glad !  I  do,  too,"  nodded  Pollyanna. 
"  I've  always  liked  Jimmy." 

"  You've  known  him  some  time,  then  ? "  queried 
Jamie,  a  little  wistfully. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  knew  him  years  ago  when  I  was  a 
little  girl,  you  know.  He  was  Jimmy  Bean  then." 


The  Paying  Guests  209 

"  Jimmy  Bean!  Why,  isn't  he  Mr.  Pendleton's 
son  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Carew,  in  surprise. 

"  No,  only  by  adoption." 

"Adoption!"  exclaimed  Jamie.  "Then  he  isn't 
a  real  son  any  more  than  I  am."  There  was  a  curious 
note  of  almost  joy  in  the  lad's  voice. 

"  No.  Mr.  Pendleton  hasn't  any  children.  He 
never  married.  He  —  he  was  going"  to,  once,  but  he 
—  he  didn't."  Pollyanna  blushed  and  spoke  with  sud 
den  diffidence.  Pollyanna  had  never  forgotten  that  it 
was  her  mother  who,  in  the  long  ago,  had  said  no 
to  this  same  John  Pendleton,  and  who  had  thus  been 
responsible  for  the  man's  long,  lonely  years  of 
bachelorhood. 

Mrs.  Carew  and  Jamie,  however,  being  unaware  of 
this,  and  seeing  now  only  the  blush  on  Pollyanna's 
cheek  and  the  diffidence  in  her  manner,  drew  suddenly 
the  same  conclusion. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  they  asked  themselves,  "  that  this 
man,  John  Pendleton,  ever  had  a  love  affair  with 
Pollyanna,  child  that  she  is?  " 

Naturally  they  did  not  say  this  aloud ;  so,  naturally, 
there  was  no  answer  possible.  Naturally,  too,  per 
haps,  the  thought,  though  unspoken,  was  still  not  for 
gotten,  but  was  tucked  away  in  a  corner  of  their 
minds  for  future  reference  —  if  need  arose. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

SUMMER  DAYS 

BEFORE  the  Carews  came,  Pollyanna  had  told  Jimmy 
that  she  was  depending  on  him  to  help  her  entertain 
them.  Jimmy  had  not  expressed  himself  then  as  be 
ing  overwhelmingly  desirous  to  serve  her  in  this  way; 
but  before  the  Carews  had  been  in  town  a  fortnight, 
he  had  shown  himself  as  not  only  willing  but  anxious, 
—  judging  by  the  frequency  and  length  of  his  calls, 
and  the  lavishness  of  his  offers  of  the  Pendleton 
horses  and  motor  cars. 

Between  him  and  Mrs.  Carew  there  sprang  up  at 
once  a  warm  friendship  based  on  what  seemed  to  be  a 
peculiarly  strong  attraction  for  each  other.  They 
walked  and  talked  together,  and  even  made  sundry 
plans  for  the  Home  for  Working  Girls,  to  be  carried 
out  the  following  winter  when  Jimmy  should  be  in 
Boston.  Jamie,  too,  came  in  for  a  good  measure  of 
attention,  nor  was  Sadie  Dean  forgotten.  Sadie,  as 
Mrs.  Carew  plainly  showed,  was  to  be  regarded  as  if 
she  were  quite  one  of  the  family;  and  Mrs.  Carew 
was  careful  to  see  that  she  had  full  share  in  any  plans 
for  merrymaking. 

Nor  did  Jimmy  always  come  alone  with  his  offers 
for  entertainment.  More  and  more  frequently  John 
Pendleton  appeared  with  him.  Rides  and  drives  and 

210 


Summer  Days 


picnics  were  planned  and  carried  out,  and  long  de 
lightful  afternoons  were  spent  over  books  and  fancy- 
work  on  the  Harrington  veranda. 

Pollyanna  was  delighted.  Not  only  were  her  pay 
ing  guests  being  kept  from  any  possibilities  of  ennui 
and  homesickness,  but  her  good  friends,  the  Carews, 
were  becoming  delightfully  acquainted  with  her  other 
good  friends,  the  Pendletons.  So,  like  a  mother  hen 
with  a  brood  of  chickens,  she  hovered  over  the 
veranda  meetings,  and  did  everything  in  her  power 
to  keep  the  group  together  and  happy. 

Neither  the  Carews  nor  the  Pendletons,  however, 
were  at  all  satisfied  to  have  Pollyanna  merely  an  on 
looker  in  their  pastimes,  and  very  strenuously  they 
urged  her  to  join  them.  They  would  not  take  no  for 
an  answer,  indeed,  and  Pollyanna  very  frequently 
found  the  way  opened  for  her. 

"  Just  as  if  we  were  going  to  have  you  poked  up  in 
this  hot  kitchen  frosting  cake  !  "  Jamie  scolded  one 
day,  after  he  had  penetrated  the  fastnesses  of  her 
domain.  "  It  is  a  perfectly  glorious  morning,  and 
we're  all  going  over  to  the  Gorge  and  take  our 
luncheon.  And  you  are  going  with  us." 

"But,  Jamie,  I  can't  —  indeed  I  can't,"  refused 
Pollyanna. 

"  Why  not  ?  You  won't  have  dinner  to  get  for  us, 
for  we  sha'n't  be  here  to  eat  it." 

"  But  there's  the  —  the  luncheon." 

"  Wrong  again.  We'll  have  the  luncheon  with  us, 
so  you  can't  stay  home  to  get  that.  Now  what's  to 
hinder  your  going  along  liith  the  luncheon,  eh  ?  " 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


"Why,  Jamie,  I  —  I  can't.  There's  the  cake  to 
frost  —  "  * 

"  Don't  want  it  frosted." 

"And  the  dusting  —  " 

"  Don't  want  it  dusted." 

"  And  the  ordering  to  do  for  to-morrow." 

"  Give  us  crackers  and  milk.  We'd  lots  rather  have 
you  and  crackers  and  milk  than  a  turkey  dinner  and 
not  you." 

"  But  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  the  things  I've  got 
to  do  to-day." 

"  Don't  want  you  to  begin  to  tell  me,"  retorted 
Jamie,  cheerfully.  "  I  want  you  to  stop  telling  me. 
Come,  put  on  your  bonnet.  I  saw  Betty  in  the  dining 
room,  and  she  says  she'll  put  our  luncheon  up.  Now 
hurry." 

"  Why,  Jamie,  you  ridiculous  boy,  I  can't  go," 
laughed  Pollyanna,  holding  feebly  back,  as  he  tugged 
at  her  dress-sleeve.  "  I  can't  go  to  that  picnic  with 
you!" 

But  she  went.  She  went  not  only  then,  but  again 
and  again.  She  could  not  help  going,  indeed,  for  she 
found  arrayed  against  her  not  only  Jamie,  but  Jimmy 
and  Mr.  Pendleton,  to  say  nothing  of  Mrs.  Carew  and 
Sadie  Dean,  and  even  Aunt  Polly  herself. 

"  And  of  course  I  am  glad  to  go,"  she  would  sigh 
happily,  when  some  dreary  bit  of  work  was  taken  out 
of  her  hands  in  spite  of  all  protesting.  "  But,  surely, 
never  before  were  there  any  boarders  like  mine  — 
teasing  for  crackers-and-milk  and  cold  things;  and 
never  before  was  there  a  boarding  mistress  like 


Summer  Days  213 


me  —  running  around  the  country  after  this  fash 
ion!" 

Tfie  climax  came  when  one  day  John  Pendleton 
(and  Aunt  Polly  never  ceased  to  exclaim  because  it 
was  John  Pendleton) — suggested  that  they  all  go 
on  a  two  weeks'  camping  trip  to  a  little  lake  up  among 
the  mountains  forty  miles  from  Beldingsville. 

The  idea  was  received  with  enthusiastic  approba 
tion  by  everybody  except  Aunt  Polly.  Aunt  Polly 
said,  privately,  to  Pollyanna,  that  it  was  all  very 
good  and  well  and  desirable  that  John  Pendleton 
should  have  gotten  out  of  the  sour,  morose  aloof nes* 
that  had  been  his  state  for  so  many  years,  but  thp* 
it  did  not  necessarily  follow  that  it  was  equally  de 
sirable  that  he  should  be  trying  to  turn  himself  into 
a  twenty-year-old  boy  again;  and  that  was  what, 
in  her  opinion,  he  seemed  to  be  doing  now !  Publicly 
she  contented  herself  with  saying  coldly  that  she 
certainly  should  not  go  on  any  insane  camping  trip 
to  sleep  on  damp  ground  and  eat  bugs  and  spiders, 
under  the  guise  of  "  fun,"  nor  did  she  think  it  a  sensi 
ble  thing  for  anybody  over  forty  to  do. 

If  John  Pendleton  felt  any  wound  from  this  shaft, 
he  made  no  sign.  Certainly  there  was  no  diminution 
of  apparent  interest  and  enthusiasm  on  his  part,  and 
the  plans  for  the  camping  expedition  came  on  apace, 
$or  it  was  unanimously  decided  that,  even  if  Aunt 
Polly  would  not  go,  that  was  no  reason  why  the  rest 
should  not. 

"  And  Mrs.  Carew  will  be  all  the  chaperon  we  need, 
anyhow,"  Jimmy  had  declared  airily. 


214  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

For  a  week,  therefore,  little  was  talked  of  but  tents, 
food  supplies,  cameras,  and  fishing  tackle,  and  little 
was  done  that  was  not  a  preparation  in  some  way  for 
the  trip. 

"  And  let's  make  it  the  real  thing/'  proposed  Jimmy, 
eagerly,  "  —  yes,  even  to  Mrs.  Chilton's  bugs  and 
spiders,"  he  added,  with  a  merry  smile  straight  into 
that  lady's  severely  disapproving  eyes.  "  None  of 
your  log-cabin-central-dining-room  idea  for  us!  We 
want  real  camp-fires  with  potatoes  baked  in  the  ashes, 
and  we  want  to  sit  around  and  tell  stories  and  roast 
corn  on  a  stick." 

"  And  we  want  to  swim  and  row  and  fish,"  chimed 
in  Pollyanna.  "  And  —  "  She  stopped  suddenly,  her 
eyes  on  Jamie's  face.  "  That  is,  of  course,"  she  cor 
rected  quickly,  "  we  wouldn't  want  to  —  to  do  those 
things  all  the  time.  There'd  be  a  lot  of  quiet  things 
we'd  want  to  do,  too  —  read  and  talk,  you  know." 

Jamie's  eyes  darkened.  His  face  grew  a  little  white. 
His  lips  parted,  but  before  any  words  came,  Sadie 
Dean  was  speaking. 

"  Oh,  but  on  camping  trips  and  picnics,  you  know, 
we  expect  to  do  outdoor  stunts,"  she  interposed 
feverishly ;  "  and  I'm  sure  we  want  to.  Last  summer 
we  were  down  in  Maine,  and  you  should  have  seen 
the  fish  Mr.  Carew  caught.  It  was —  You  tell  it," 
she  begged,  turning  to  Jamie. 

Jamie  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  They'd  never  believe  it,"  he  objected;  "  —  a  fish 
story  like  that !  " 

"  Try  us,"  challenged  Pollyanna. 


Summer  Days  215 


Jamie  still  shook  his  head  —  but  the  color  had  come 
back  to  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  no  longer  somber 
as  if  with  pain.  Pollyanna,  glancing  at  Sadie  Dean, 
vaguely  wondered  why  she  suddenly  settled  back  in 
her  seat  with  so  very  evident  an  air  of  relief. 

At  last  the  appointed  day  came,  and  the  start  was 
made  in  John  Pendleton's  big  new  touring  car  with 
Jimmy  at  the  wheel.  A  whir,  a  throbbing  rumble,  a 
chorus  of  good-bys,  and  they  were  off,  with  one  long 
shriek  of  the  siren  under  Jimmy's  mischievous  fingers. 

In  after  days  Pollyanna  often  went  back  in  her 
thoughts  to  that  first  night  in  camp.  The  experience 
was  so  new  and  so  wonderful  in  so  many  ways. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  their  forty-mile  auto 
mobile  journey  came  to  an  end.  Since  half-past  three 
their  big  car  had  been  ponderously  picking  its  way 
over  an  old  logging-road  not  designed  for  six-cylinder 
automobiles.  For  the  car  itself,  and  for  the  hand 
at  the  wheel,  this  part  of  the  trip  was  a  most  wearing 
one;  but  for  the  merry  passengers,  who  had  no  re 
sponsibility  concerning  hidden  holes  and  muddy 
curves,  it  was  nothing  but  a  delight  growing  more 
poignant  with  every  new  vista  through  the  green 
arches,  and  with  every  echoing  laugh  that  dodged  the 
low-hanging  branches. 

The  site  for  the  camp  was  one  known  to  John 
Pendleton  years  before,  and  he  greeted  it  now  with 
a  satisfied  delight  that  was  not  unmingled  with  relief. 

"  Oh,  how  perfectly  lovely !  "  chorused  the  others. 

"  Glad  you  like  it !  I  thought  it  would  be  about 
right,"  nodded  John  Pendleton.  "  Still,  I  was  a  little 


216  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

anxious,  after  all,  for  these  places  do  change,  you 
know,  most  remarkably  sometimes.  And  of  course 
this  has  grown  up  to  bushes  a  little  —  but  not  so  but 
what  we  can  easily  clear  it." 

Everybody  fell  to  work  then,  clearing  the  ground, 
putting  up  the  two  little  tents,  unloading  the  auto 
mobile,  building  the  camp  fire,  and  arranging  the 
"  kitchen  and  pantry." 

It  was  then  that  Pollyanna  began  especially  to  no 
tice  Jamie,  and  to  fear  for  him.  She  realized  sud 
denly  that  the  hummocks  and  hollows  and  pine- 
littered  knolls  were  not  like  a  carpeted  floor  for  a 
pair  of  crutches,  and  she  saw  that  Jamie  was  realizing 
it,  too.  She  saw,  also,  that  in  spite  of  his  infirmity, 
he  was  trying  to  take  his  share  in  the  work ;  and  the 
sight  troubled  her.  Twice  she  hurried  forward  and 
intercepted  him,  taking  from  his  arms  the  box  he  was 
trying  to  carry. 

"  Here,  let  me  take  that,"  she  begged.  "  You've 
done  enough."  And  the  second  time  she  added :  "  Do 
go  and  sit  down  somewhere  to  rest,  Jamie.  You  look 
so  tired!" 

If  she  had  been  watching  closely  she  would  have 
seen  the  quick  color  sweep  to  his  forehead.  But  she 
was  not  watching,  so  she  did  not  see  it.  She  did  see, 
however,  to  her  intense  surprise,  Sadie  Dean  hurry 
forward  a  moment  later,  her  arms  full  of  boxes,  and 
heard  her  cry: 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Carew,  please,  if  you  would  give  me  a 
lift  with  these!" 

The  next  moment,  Jamie,  once  more  struggling  with 


.    Summer  Days  217 

the  problem  of  managing  a  bundle  of  boxes  and  two 
crutches,  was  hastening  toward  the  tents. 

With  a  quick  word  of  protest  on  her  tongue,  Polly- 
anna  turned  to  Sadie  Dean.  But  the  protest  died  un 
spoken,  for  Sadie,  her  finger  to  her  lips,  was  hurrying 
straight  toward  her. 

"  I  know  you  didn't  think,"  she  stammered  in  a  low 
voice,  as  she  reached  Pollyanna's  side.  "  But,  don't 
you  see  ?  —  it  hurts  him  —  to  have  you  think  he 
can't  do  things  like  other  folks.  There,  look!  See 
how  happy  he  is  now." 

Pollyanna  looked,  and  she  saw.  She  saw7  Jamie, 
his  whole  self  alert,  deftly  balance  his  weight  on  one 
crutch  and  swing  his  burden  to  the  ground.  She  saw 
the  happy  light  on  his  face,  and  she  heard  him  say 
nonchalantly : 

"  Here's  another  contribution  from  Miss  Dean. 
She  asked  me  to  bring  this  over." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  see,"  breathed  Pollyanna,  turning  to 
Sadie  Dean.  But  Sadie  Dean  had  gone. 

Pollyanna  watched  Jamie  a  good  deal  after  that, 
though  she  was  careful  not  to  let  him,  or  any  one  else, 
see  that  she  was  watching  him.  And  as  she  watched, 
her  heart  ached.  Twice  she  saw  him  essay  a  task 
and  fail :  once  with  a  box  too  heavy  for  him  to  lift ; 
once  with  a  folding-table  too  unwieldy  for  him  to 
carry  with  his  crutches.  And  each  time  she  saw  his 
quick  glance  about  him  to  see  if  others  noticed.  She 
saw,  too,  that  unmistakably  he  was  getting  very  tired, 
and  that  his  face,  in  spite  of  its  gay  smile,  was  look 
ing  white  and  drawn,  as  if  he  were  in  pain. 


218  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  I  should  think  we  might  have  known  more," 
stormed  Pollyanna  hotly  to  herself,  her  eyes  blinded 
with  tears.  "  I  should  think  we  might  have  known 
more  than  to  have  let  him  come  to  a  place  like  this. 
Camping,  indeed!  —  and  with  a  pair  of  crutches! 
Why  couldn't  we  have  remembered  before  we 
started?" 

An  hour  later,  around  the  camp  fire  after  supper, 
Pollyanna  had  her  answer  to  this  question;  for,  with 
the  glowing  fire  before  her,  and  the  soft,  fragrant 
dark  all  about  her,  she  once  more  fell  under  the  spell 
of  the  witchery  that  fell  from  Jamie's  lips;  and  she 
once  more  forgot  —  Jamie's  crutches. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

COMRADES 

THEY  were  a  merry  party  —  the  six  of  them  — 
and  a  congenial  one.  There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to 
the  new  delights  that  came  with  every  new  day,  not 
the  least  of  which  was  the  new  charm  of  companion 
ship  that  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  this  new  life  they  were 
living. 

As  Jamie  said  one  night,  when  they  were  all  sitting 
about  the  fire : 

"  You  see,  we  seem  to  know  each  other  so  much 
better  up  here  in  the  woods  —  better  in  a  week  than 
we  would  in  a  year  in  town." 

"  I  know  it,  I  wonder  why/'  murmured  Mrs. 
Carew,  her  eyes  dreamily  following  the  leaping  blaze. 

"  I  think  it's  something  in  the  air,"  sighed  Polly- 
anna,  happily.  "  There's  something  about  the  sky  and 
the  woods  and  the  lake  so  —  so  —  well,  there  just  is ; 
that's  all." 

"  I  think  you  mean,  because  the  world  is  shut  out," 
cried  Sadie  Dean,  with  a  curious  little  break  in  her 
voice.  (Sadie  had  not  joined  in  the  laugh  that  fol 
lowed  Pollyanna's  limping  conclusion.)  "Up  here 
everything  is  so  real  and  true  that  we,  too,  can  be  our 
real  true  selves  —  not  what  the  world  says  we  are  be- 

219 


220  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

cause  we  are  rich,  or  poor,  or  great,  or  humble;  but 
what  we  really  are,  ourselves." 

"  Ho !  "  scoffed  Jimmy,  airily.  "  All  that  sounds 
very  fine;  but  the  real  common-sense  reason  is  be 
cause  we  don't  have  any  Mrs.  Tom  and  Dick  and 
Harry  sitting  on  their  side  porches  and  commenting 
on  every  time  we  stir,  and  wondering  among  them 
selves  where  we  are  going,  why  we  are  going  there, 
and  how  long  we're  intending  to  stay !  " 

"  Oh,  Jimmy,  how  you  do  take  the  poetry  out  of 
things,"  reproached  Pollyanna,  laughingly. 

"  But  that's  my  business,"  flashed  Jimmy.  "  How 
do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  build  dams  and  bridges 
if  I  don't  see  something  besides  poetry  in  the  water 
fall?" 

"You  can't,  Pendleton!  And  it's  the  bridge  — 
that  counts  —  every  time,"  declared  Jamie  in  a  voice 
that  brought  a  sudden  hush  to  the  group  about  the 
fire.  It  was  for  only  a  moment,  however,  for  almost 
at  once  Sadie  Dean  broke  the  silence  with  a  gay : 

"  Pooh !  I'd  rather  have  the  waterfall  every  time, 
without  any  bridge  around  —  to  spoil  the  view !  " 

Everybody  laughed  —  and  it  was  as  if  a  tension 
somewhere  snapped.  Then  Mrs.  Carew  rose  to  her 
feet. 

"  Come,  come,  children,  your  stern  chaperon  says 
it's  bedtime !  "  Arid  with  a  merry  chorus  of  good- 
nights  the  party  broke  up. 

And  so  the  days  passed.  To  Pollyanna  they  were 
wonderful  days,  and  still  the  most  wonderful  part  was 
the  charm  of  close  companionship  —  a  companionship- 


Comrades 


that,  while  differing  as  to  details  with  each  one,  was 
yet  delightful  with  all. 

With  Sadie  Dean  she  talked  of  the  new  Home,  and 
of  what  a  marvelous  work  Mrs.  Carew  was  doing. 
They  talked,  too,  of  the  old  days  when  Sadie  was 
selling  bows  behind  the  counter,  and  of  what  Mrs. 
Carew  had  done  for  her.  Pollyanna  heard,  also, 
something  of  the  old  father  and  mother  "  ^ack  home," 
and  of  the  joy  that  Sadie,  in  her  new  position,  had 
been  able  to  bring  into  their  lives. 

"  And  after  all  it's  really  you  that  began  it,  you 
know,"  she  said  one  day  to  Pollyanna.  But  Pollyanna 
only  shook  her  head  at  this  with  an  emphatic: 

"  Nonsense !     It  was  all  Mrs.  Carew." 

With  Mrs.  Carew  herself  Pollyanna  talked  also  of 
the  Home,  and  of  her  plans  for  the  girls.  And  once, 
in  the  hush  of  a  twilight  walk,  Mrs.  Carew  spoke  of 
herself  and  of  her  changed  outlook  on  life.  And  she, 
like  Sadie  Dean,  said  brokenly :  "  After  all,  it's  really 
you  that  began  it,  Pollyanna."  But  Pollyanna,  as  in 
Sadie  Dean's  case,  would  have  none  of  this;  and  she 
began  to  talk  of  Jamie,  and  of  what  he  had  done. 

"  Jamie's  a  dear,"  Mrs.  Carew  answered  affection 
ately.  "  And  I  love  him  like  an  own  son.  He  couldn't 
be  dearer  to  me  if  he  were  really  my  sister's  boy." 

"  Then  you  don't  think  he  is?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  We've  never  learned  anything  con 
clusive.  Sometimes  I'm  sure  he  is.  Then  again  I 
doubt  it.  I  think  he  really  believes  he  is  —  bless  his 
heart !  At  all  events,  one  thing  is  sure :  he  has  good 
blood  in  him  from  somewhere.  Jamie's  no  ordinary 


222  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

waif  of  the  streets,  you  know,  with  his  talents;  and 
the  wonderful  way  he  has  responded  to  teaching  and 
training  proves  it." 

"Of  course/'  nodded  Pollyanna.  "  And  as  long  as 
you  love  him  so  well,  it  doesn't  really  matter,  anyway, 
does  it,  whether  he's  the  real  Jamie  or  not  ?  " 

Mrs.  Carew  hesitated.  Into  her  eyes  crept  the  old 
somberness  of  heartache. 

"  Not  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,"  she  sighed,  at  last. 
"  It's  only  that  sometimes  I  get  to  thinking :  if  he 
isn't  our  Jamie,  where  is  —  Jamie  Kent  ?  Is  he  well  ? 
Is  he  happy?  Has  he  any  one  to  love  him?  When 
I  get  to  thinking  like  that,  Pollyanna,  I'm  nearly  wild. 
I'd  give  —  everything  I  have  in  the  world,  it  seems 
to  me,  to  really  know  that  this  boy  is  Jamie  Kent." 

Pollyanna  used  to  think  of  this  conversation  some 
times,  in  her  after  talks  with  Jamie.  Jamie  was  so 
sure  of  himself. 

"  It's  just  somehow  that  I  feel  it's  so,"  he  said  once 
to  Pollyanna.  "  I  believe  I  am  Jamie  Kent.  I've  be 
lieved  it  quite  a  while.  I'm  afraid  I've  believed  it  so 
long  now,  that  —  that  I  just  couldn't  bear  it,  to  find 
out  I  wasn't  he.  Mrs.  Carew  has  done  so  much  for 
me;  just  think  if,  after  all,  I  were  only  a  stranger!  " 

"  But  she  —  loves  you,  Jamie." 

"  I  know  she  does  —  and  that  would  only  hurt  all 
the  more  —  don't  you  see  ?  —  because  it  would  be 
hurting  her.  She  wants  me  to  be  the  real  Jamie.  I 
know  she  does.  Now  if  I  could  only  do  something  for 
her  —  make  her  proud  of  me  in  some  way!  If  I 
could  only  do  something  to  support  myself,  even,  like 


Comrades 


a  man!  But  what  can  I  do,  with  —  these?"  He 
spoke  bitterly,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  crutches  at  his 
side. 

Pollyanna  was  shocked  and  distressed.  It  was  the 
first  time  she  had  heard  Jamie  speak  of  his  infirmity 
since  the  old  boyhood  days.  Frantically  she  cast  about 
in  her  mind  for  just  the  right  thing  to  say;  but  be 
fore  she  had  even  thought  of  anything,  Jamie's  face 
had  undergone  a  complete  change. 

"  But,  there,  forget  it !  I  didn't  mean  to  say  it," 
he  cried  gaily.  "  And  'twas  rank  heresy  to  the 
game,  wasn't  it?  I'm  sure  I'm  glad  I've  got  the 
crutches.  They're  a  whole  lot  nicer  than  the  wheel 
chair!" 

"  And  the  Jolly  Book  —  do  you  keep  it  now  ?  " 
asked  Pollyanna,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  a  little. 

"  Sure !  I've  got  a  whole  library  of  jolly  books 
now,"  he  retorted.  "  They're  all  in  leather,  dark  red, 
except  the  first  one.  That  is  the  same  little  old  note 
book  that  Jerry  gave  me." 

"  Jerry !  And  I've  been  meaning  all  the  time  to 
ask  for  him,"  cried  Pollyanna.  "Where  is  he?" 

"  In  Boston ;  and  his  vocabulary  is  just  as  pic 
turesque  as  ever,  only  he  has  to  tone  it  down  at  times. 
Jerry's  still  in  the  newspaper  business  —  but  he's 
getting  the  news,  not  selling  it.  Reporting,  you  know. 
I  have  been  able  to  help  him  and  mumsey.  And  don't 
you  suppose  I  was  glad?  Mumsey's  in  a  sanatorium 
for  her  rheumatism." 

"And  is  she  better?" 

"Very  much.     She's  coming  out  pretty  soon,  and 


224  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

going  to  housekeeping  with  Jerry.  Jerry's  been  ma 
king  up  some  of  his  lost  schooling  during  these  past 
few  years.  He's  let  me  help  him  —  but  only  as  a 
loan.  He's  been  very  particular  to  stipulate  that." 

"Of  course/'  nodded  Pollyanna,  in  approval. 
"  He'd  want  it  that  way,  I'm  sure.  I  should.  It  isn't 
nice  to  be  under  obligations  that  you  can't  pay.  I 
know  how  it  is.  That's  why  I  so  wish  I  could  help 
Aunt  Polly  out  —  after  all  she's  done  for  me !  " 

"  But  you  are  helping  her  this  summer." 

Pollyanna  lifted  her  eyebrows. 

"  Yes,  I'm  keeping  summer  boarders.  I  look  it, 
don't  I  ?  "  she  challenged,  with  a  flourish  of  her  hands 
toward  her  surroundings.  "  Surely,  never  was  a 
boarding-house  mistress's  task  quite  like  mine!  And 
you  should  have  heard  Aunt  Polly's  dire  predictions 
of  what  summer  boarders  would  be,"  she  chuckled 
irrepressibly. 

"What  was  that?" 

Pollyanna  shook  her  head  decidedly. 

"  Couldn't  possibly  tell  you.  That's  a  dead  secret. 
But  — "  She  stopped  and  sighed,  her  face  growing 
wistful  again.  "  This  isn't  going  to  last,  you  know. 
It  can't.  Summer  boarders  don't.  I've  got  to  do 
something  winters.  I've  been  thinking.  I  believe  — 
I'll  write  stories." 

Jamie  turned  with  a  start. 

"You'll  — what?"  he  demanded. 

"  Write  stories  —  to  sell,  you  know.  You  needn't 
look  so  surprised!  Lots  of  folks  do  that.  I  knew 
two  girls  in  Germany  who  did." 


THE    INSTRUMENT    THAT    YOU    PLAY    ON,    POLLYANNA, 
WILL   BE   THE   GREAT    HEART   OF   THE    WORLD.'  " 


Comrades  225 


"  Did  you  ever  try  it?"  Jamie  still  spoke  a  little 
queerly. 

"  N-no ;  not  yet,"  admitted  Pollyanna.  Then,  de 
fensively,  in  answer  to  the  expression  on  his  face,  she 
bridled :  "  I  told  you  I  was  keeping  summer  boarders 
now.  I  can't  do  both  at  once." 

"Of  course  not!" 

She  threw  him  a  reproachful  glance. 

"You  don't  think  I  can  ever  do  it?" 

"  I  didn't  say  so." 

"  No ;  but  you  look  it.  I  don't  see  why  I  can't. 
It  isn't  like  singing.  You  don't  have  to  have  a  voice 
for  it.  And  it  isn't  like  an  instrument  that  you  have 
to  learn  how  to  play." 

"  I  think  it  is  —  a  little  —  like  that."  Jamie's  voice 
was  low.  His  eyes  were  turned  away. 

"How?  What  do  you  mean?  Why,  Jamie,  just 
a  pencil  and  paper,  so  —  that  isn't  like  learning  to 
play  the  piano  or  violin !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then  came  the  an 
swer,  still  in  that  low,  diffident  voice;  still  with  the 
eyes  turned  away. 

"  The  instrument  that  you  play  on,  Pollyanna,  will 
be  the  great  heart  of  the  world;  and  to  me  that  seems 
the  most  wonderful  instrument  of  all  —  to  learn. 
Under  your  touch,  if  you  are  skilful,  it  will  respond 
with  smiles  or  tears,  as  you  will." 

Pollyanna  drew  a  tremulous  sigh.  Her  eyes  grew 
wet. 

"  Oh,  Jamie,  how  beautifully  you  do  put  things  — 
always !  I  never  thought  of  it  that  way.  But  it's  so, 


226  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

isn't  it?  How  I  would  love  to  do  it!  Maybe  I 
couldn't  do  —  all  that.  But  I've  read  stories  in  the 
magazines,  lots  of  them.  Seems  as  if  I  could  write 
some  like  those,  anyway.  I  love  to  tell  stories.  I'm 
always  repeating  those  you  tell,  and  I  always  laugh 
and  cry,  too,  just  as  I  do  when  you  tell  them." 

Jamie  turned  quickly. 

"  Do  they  make  you  laugh  and  cry,  Pollyanna  — 
really?  "  There  was  a  curious  eagerness  in  his  voice. 

"  Of  course  they  do,  and  you  know  it,  Jamie.  And 
they  used  to  long  ago,  too,  in  the  Public  Garden. 
Nobody  can  tell  stories  like  you,  Jamie.  You  ought 
to  be  the  one  writing  stories ;  not  I.  And,  say,  Jarnie, 
why  don't  you  ?  You  could  do  it  lovely,  I  know !  " 

There  was  no  answer.  Jamie,  apparently,  did  not 
hear;  perhaps  because  he  called,  at  that  instant,  to  a 
chipmunk  that  was  scurrying  through  the  bushes  near 
by. 

It  was  not  always  with  Jamie,  nor  yet  with  Mrs. 
Carew  and  Sadie  Dean  that  Pollyanna  had  delightful 
walks  and  talks,  however;  very  often  it  was  with 
Jimmy,  or  John  Pendleton. 

Pollyanna  was  sure  now  that  she  had  never  before 
known  John  Pendleton.  The  old  taciturn  moroseness 
seemed  entirely  gone  since  they  came  to  camp.  He 
rowed  and  swam  and  fished  and  tramped  with  fully 
as  much  enthusiasm  as  did  Jimmy  himself,  and  with 
almost  as  much  vigor.  Around  the  camp  fire  at  night 
he  quite  rivaled  Jamie  with  his  story-telling  of  adven 
tures,  both  laughable  and  thrilling,  that  had  befallen 
him  in  his  foreign  travels. 


Comrades 


"  In  the  '  Desert  of  Sarah/  Nancy  used  to  call  it," 
laughed  Pollyanna  one  night,  as  she  joined  the  rest 
in  begging  for  a  story. 

Better  than  all  this,  however,  in  Pollyanna's  opinion, 
were  the  times  when  John  Pendleton,  with  her  alone, 
talked  of  her  mother  as  he  used  to  know  her  and  love 
her,  in  the  days  long  gone.  That  he  did  so  talk  with 
her  was  a  joy  to  Pollyanna,  but  a  great  surprise,  too ; 
for,  never  in  the  past,  had  John  Pendleton  talked  so 
freely  of  the  girl  whom  he  had  so  loved  —  hopelessly. 
Perhaps  John  Pendleton  himself  felt  some  of  the  sur 
prise,  for  once  he  said  to  Pollyanna,  musingly : 

"  I  wonder  why  I'm  talking  to  you  like  this." 

"  Oh,  but  I  love  to  have  you,"  breathed  Pollyanna. 

"  Yes,  I  know  —  but  I  wouldn't  think  I  would  do 
it.  It  must  be,  though,  that  it's  because  you  are  so 
like  her,  as  I  knew  her.  You  are  very  like  your 
mother,  my  dear." 

"  Why,  I  thought  my  mother  was  beautiful! "  cried 
Pollyanna,  in  unconcealed  amazement. 

John  Pendleton  smiled  quizzically. 

"  She  was,  my  dear." 

Pollyanna  looked  still  more  amazed. 

"  Then  I  don't  see  how  I  can  be  like  her! " 

The  man  laughed  outright. 

"  Pollyanna,  if  some  girls  had  said  that,  I  —  well, 
never  mind  what  I'd  say.  You  little  witch !  —  you 
poor,  homely  little  Pollyanna !  " 

Pollyanna  flashed  a  genuinely  distressed  reproof 
straight  into  the  man's  merry  eyes. 

"  Please,  Mr.  Pendleton,  don't  look  like  that,  and 


228  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

don't  tease  me  —  about  that.  I'd  so  love  to  be  beau 
tiful —  though  of  course  it  sounds  silly  to  say  it. 
And  I  have  a  mirror,  you  know." 

"  Then  I  advise  you  to  look  in  it  —  when  you're 
talking  sometime,"  observed  the  man  sententiously. 

Pollyanna's  eyes  flew  wide  open. 

"  Why,  that's  just  what  Jimmy  said,"  she  cried. 

"  Did  he,  indeed  —  the  young  rascal !  "  retorted 
John  Pendleton,  dryly.  Then,  with  one  of  the  curi 
ously  abrupt  changes  of  manner  peculiar  to  him,  he 
said,  very  low :  "  You  have  your  mother's  eyes  and 
smile,  Pollyanna ;  and  to  me  you  are  —  beautiful." 

And  Pollyanna,  her  eyes  blinded  with  sudden  hot 
tears,  was  silenced. 

Dear  as  were  these  talks,  however,  they  still  were 
not  quite  like  the  talks  with  Jimmy,  to  Pollyanna. 
For  that  matter,  she  and  Jimmy  did  not  need  to  talk 
to  be  happy.  Jimmy  was  always  so  comfortable,  and 
comforting;  whether  they  talked  or  not  did  not  mat 
ter.  Jimmy  always  understood.  There  was  no  pull 
ing  on  her  heart-strings  for  sympathy,  with  Jimmy 
—  Jimmy  was  delightfully  big,  and  strong,  and  happy. 
Jimmy  was  not  sorrowing  for  a  long-lost  nephew,  nor 
pining  for  the  loss  of  a  boyhood  sweetheart.  Jimmy 
did  not  have  to  swing  himself  painfully  about  on  a 
pair  of  crutches  —  all  of  which  was  so  hard  to  see, 
and  know,  and  think  of.  With  Jimmy  one  could  be 
just  glad,  and  happy,  and  free.  Jimmy  was  such  a 
dear!  He  always  rested  one  so  —  did  Jimmy! 


CHAPTER   XXIII 
"TIED  TO  TWO  STICKS" 

IT  was  on  the  last  day  at  camp  that  it  happened. 
To  Pollyanna  it  seemed  such  a  pity  that  it  should  have 
happened  at  all,  for  it  was  the  first  cloud  to  bring  a 
shadow  of  regret  and  unhappiness  to  her  heart  dur 
ing  the  whole  trip,  and  she  found  herself  futilely 
sighing : 

"I  wish  we'd  gone  home  day  before  yesterday; 
then  it  wouldn't  have  happened." 

But  they  had  not  gone  home  "  day  before  yester 
day,"  and  it  had  happened;  and  this  was  the  manner 
of  it. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  that  last  day  they  had  all 
started  on  a  two-mile  tramp  to  "  the  Basin." 

"  We'll  have  one  more  bang-up  fish  dinner  before 
we  go,"  Jimmy  had  said.  And  the  rest  had  joyfully 
agreed. 

With  luncheon  and  fishing  tackle,  therefore,  they 
had  made  an  early  start.  Laughing  and  calling  gaily 
to  each  other  they  followed  the  narrow  path  through 
the  woods,  led  by  Jimmy,  who  best  knew  the  way. 

At  first,  close  behind  Jimmy  had  walked  Pollyanna ; 
but  gradually  she  had  fallen  back  witb  famie,  who 
was  last  in  the  line :  Pollyanna  had  thought  she  de 
tected  on  Jamie's  face  the  expression  which  she  had 

229 


230  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

come  to  know  was  there  only  when  he  was  attempt 
ing  something  that  taxed  almost  to  the  breaking-point 
his  skill  and  powers  of  endurance.  She  knew  that 
nothing  would  so  offend  him  as  to  have  her  openly 
notice  this  state  of  affairs.  At  the  same  time,  she 
also  knew  that  from  her,  more  willingly  than  from 
any  one  else,  would  he  accept  an  occasional  steadying 
hand  over  a  troublesome  log  or  stone.  Therefore,  at 
the  first  opportunity  to  make  the  change  without  ap 
parent  design,  she  had  dropped  back  step  by  step  un 
til  she  had  reached  her  goal,  Jamie.  She  had  been 
rewarded  instantly  in  the  way  Jamie's  face  brightened, 
and  in  the  easy  assurance  with  which  he  met  and 
conquered  a  fallen  tree-trunk  across  their  path,  under 
the  pleasant  fiction  (carefully  fostered  by  Pollyanna) 
of  "  helping  her  across." 

Once  out  of  the  woods,  their  way  led  along  an  old 
stone  wall  for  a  time,  with  wide  reaches  of  sunny, 
sloping  pastures  on  each  side,  and  a  more  distant  pic 
turesque  farmhouse.  It  was  in  the  adjoining  pasture 
that  Pollyanna  saw  the  goldenrod  which  she  immedi 
ately  coveted. 

"  Jamie,  wait !  I'm  going  to  get  it,"  she  exclaimed 
eagerly.  "  It'll  make  such  a  beautiful  bouquet  for 
our  picnic  table !  "  And  nimbly  she  scrambled  over 
the  high  stone  wall  and  dropped  herself  down  on  the 
other  side. 

It  was  strange  how  tantalizing  was  that  goldenrod. 
Always  just  ahead  she  saw  another  bunch,  and  yet 
another,  each  a  little  finer  than  the  one  within  her 
reach.  With  joyous  exclamations  and  gay  little  calls 


"  Tied  to  Two  Sticks  "  231 

back  to  the  waiting  Jamie,  Pollyanna  —  looking  par 
ticularly  attractive  in  her  scarlet  sweater  —  skipped 
from  bunch  to  bunch,  adding  to  her  store.  She  had 
both  hands  full  when  there  came  the  hideous  bellow 
of  an  angry  bull,  the  agonized  shout  from  Jamie,  and 
the  sound  of  hoofs  thundering  down  the  hillside. 

What  happened  next  was  never  clear  to  her.  She 
knew  she  dropped  her  goldenrod  and  ran  —  ran  as 
she  never  ran  before,  ran  as  she  thought  she  never 
could  run  —  back  toward  the  wall  and  Jamie.  Shr 
knew  that  behind  her  the  hoof -beats  were  gaining, 
gaining,  always  gaining.  Dimly,  hopelessly,  far  ahead 
of  her,  she  saw  Jamie's  agonized  face,  and  heard 
his  hoarse  cries.  Then,  from  somewhere,  came  a 
new  voice  —  Jimmy's  —  shouting  a  cheery  call  of 
courage. 

Still  on  and  on  she  ran  blindly,  hearing  nearer  and 
nearer  the  thud  of  those  pounding  hoofs.  Once  she 
stumbled  and  almost  fell.  Then,  dizzily  she  righted 
herself  and  plunged  forward.  She  felt  her  strength 
quite  gone  when  suddenly,  close  to  her,  she  heard 
Jimmy's  cheery  call  again.  The  next  minute  she  felt 
herself  snatched  off  her  feet  and  held  close  to  a  great 
throbbing  something  that  dimly  she  realized  was 
Jimmy's  heart.  It  was  all  a  horrid  blur  then  of  cries, 
hot,  panting  breaths,  and  pounding  hoofs  thundering 
nearer,  ever  nearer.  Then,  just  as  she  knew  those 
hoofs  to  be  almost  upon  her,  she  felt  herself  flung, 
still  in  Jimmy's  arms,  sharply  to  one  side,  and  yet  not 
so  far  but  that  she  still  could  feel  the  hot  breath  of 
the  maddened  animal  as  he  dashed  by.  Almost  at 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


once  then  she  found  herself  on  the  other  side  of  the 
wall,  with  Jimmy  bending  over  her,  imploring  her  to 
tell  him  she  was  not  dead. 

With  an  hysterical  laugh  that  was  yet  half  a  sob, 
she  struggled  out  of  his  arms  and  stood  upon  her  feet. 

"  Dead  ?  No,  indeed  —  thanks  to  you,  Jimmy.  I'm 
all  right.  I'm  all  right.  Oh,  how  glad,  glad,  glad  I 
was  to  hear  your  voice  !  Oh,  that  was  splendid  !  How 
did  you  do  it?  "  she  panted. 

"  Pooh  !  That  was  nothing.  I  just  —  "  An  in 
articulate  choking  cry  brought  his  words  to  a  sudden 
halt.  He  turned  to  find  Jamie  face  down  on  the 
ground,  a  little  distance  away.  Pollyanna  was  already 
hurrying  toward  him. 

"Jamie,  Jamie,  what  is  the  matter?"  she  cried. 
"  Did  you  fall?  Are  you  hurt?  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

"What  is  it,  old  fellow?  Are  you  hurt?"  de 
manded  Jimmy. 

Still  there  was  no  answer.  Then,  suddenly,  Jamie 
pulled  himself  half  upright  and  turned.  They  saw  his 
face  then,  and  fell  back,  shocked  and  amazed. 

"  Hurt?  Am  I  hurt?  "  he  choked  huskily,  flinging 
out  both  his  hands.  "  Don't  you  suppose  it  hurts  to 
see  a  thing  like  that  and  not  be  able  to  do  anything? 
To  be  tied,  helpless,  to  a  pair  of  sticks?  I  tell  you 
there's  no  hurt  in  all  the  world  to  equal  it!  " 

"But  —  but  —  Jamie,"  faltered  Pollyanna. 

"  Don't  !  "  interrupted  the  cripple,  almost  harshly. 
He  had  struggled  to  his  feet  now.  "  Don't  say  — 
anything.  I  didn't  mean  to  make  a  scene  —  like  this," 


"  Tied  to  Two  Sticks  "  233 

he  finished  brokenly,  as  he  turned  and  swung  back 
along  the  narrow  path  that  led  to  the  camp. 

For  a  minute,  as  if  transfixed,  the  two  behind  him 
watched  him  go. 

"  Well,  by  —  Jove ! "  breathed  Jimmy,  then,  in  a 
voice  that  shook  a  little,  "  That  was  —  tough  on  him !  " 

"  And  I  didn't  think,  and  praised  you,  right  before 
him,"  half -sobbed  Pollyanna.  "  And  his  hands  —  did 
you  see  them  ?  They  were  —  bleeding  where  the  nails 
had  cut  right  into  the  flesh,"  she  finished,  as  she  turned 
and  stumbled  blindly  up  the  path. 

"But,  Pollyanna,  w-where  are  you  going?  "  cried 
Jimmy. 

"  I'm  going  to  Jamie,  of  course !  Do  you  think  I'd 
leave  him  like  that  ?  Come,  we  must  get  him  to  come 
back." 

And  Jimmy,  with  a  sigh  that  was  not  all  for  Jamie, 
went. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

JIMMY    WAKES    UP 

OUTWARDLY  the  camping  trip  was  pronounced  a 
great  success ;  but  inwardly  — 

Pollyanna  wondered  sometimes  if  it  were  all  her 
self,  or  if  there  really  were  a  peculiar,  indefinable  con 
straint  in  everybody  with  everybody  else.  Certainly 
she  felt  it,  and  she  thought  she  saw  evidences  that  the 
others  felt  it,  too.  As  for  the  cause  of  it  all  —  un 
hesitatingly  she  attributed  it  to  that  last  day  at  camp 
with  its  unfortunate  trip  to  the  Basin. 

To  be  sure,  she  and  Jimmy  had  easily  caught  up 
with  Jamie,  and  had,  after  considerable  coaxing,  per 
suaded  him  to  turn  about  and  go  on  to  the  Basin  with 
them.  But,  in  spite  of  everybody's  very  evident  ef 
forts  to  act  as  if  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  had 
happened,  nobody  really  succeeded  in  doing  so.  Polly 
anna,  Jamie,  and  Jimmy  overdid  their  gayety  a  bit, 
perhaps;  and  the  others,  while  not  knowing  exactly 
what  had  happened,  very  evidently  felt  that  something 
was  not  quite  right,  though  they  plainly  tried  to  hide 
the  fact  that  they  did  feel  so.  Naturally,  in  this  state 
of  affairs,  restful  happiness  was  out  of  the  question. 
Even  the  anticipated  fish  dinner  was  flavorless;  and 
early  in  the  afternoon  the  start  was  made  back  to  the 
camp, 

234 


Jimmy  Wakes  Up  235 

Once  home  again,  Pollyanna  had  hoped  that  the 
unhappy  episode  of  the  angry  bull  would  be  forgotten. 
But  she  could  not  forget  it,  so  in  all  fairness  she  could 
not  blame  the  others  if  they  could  not.  Always  she 
thought  of  it  now  when  she  looked  at  Jamie.  She  saw 
again  the  agony  on  his  face,  the  crimson  stain  on  the 
palms  of  his  hands.  Her  heart  ached  for  him,  and 
because  it  did  so  ache,  his  mere  presence  had  come  to 
be  a  pain  to  her.  Remorsefully  she  confessed  to  her 
self  that  she  did  not  like  to  be  with  Jamie  now,  nor 
to  talk  with  him  —  but  that  did  not  mean  that  she 
was  not  often  with  him.  She  was  with  him,  indeed, 
much  oftener  than  before,  for  so  remorseful  was  she, 
and  so  fearful  was  she  that  he  would  detect  her  un 
happy  frame  of  mind,  that  she  lost  no  opportunity 
of  responding  to  his  overtures  of  comradeship;  and 
sometimes  she  deliberately  sought  him  out.  This  last 
she  did  not  often  have  to  do,  however,  for  more  and 
more  frequently  these  days  Jamie  seemed  to  be  turn 
ing  to  her  for  companionship. 

The  reason  for  this,  Pollyanna  believed,  was  to  be 
found  in  this  same  incident  of  the  bull  and  the  rescue. 
Not  that  Jamie  ever  referred  to  it  directly.  He  never 
did  that.  He  was,  too,  even  gayer  than  usual;  but 
Pollyanna  thought  she  detected  sometimes  a  bitterness 
underneath  it  all  that  was  never  there  before.  Cer 
tainly  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  at  times  he  seemed 
almost  to  want  to  avoid  the  others,  and  that  he  actu 
ally  sighed,  as  if  with  relief,  when  he  found  him 
self  alone  with  her.  She  thought  she  knew  why 
this  was  so,  after  he  said  to  her,  as  he  did  say 


236  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

one  day,  while  they  were  watching  the  others  play 
tennis : 

"  You  see,  after  all,  Pollyanna,  there  isn't  any  one 
who  can  quite  understand  as  you  can." 

.  "  '  Understand  '  ?  "  Pollyanna  had  not  known  what 
he  meant  at  first.  They  had  been  watching  the  players 
for  five  minutes  without  a  word  between  them. 

"  Yes ;   for  you,  once  —  couldn't  walk  —  yourself." 

"  Oh-h,  yes,  I  know,"  faltered  Pollyanna ;  and  she 
knew  that  her  great  distress  must  have  shown  in  her 
face,  for  so  quickly  and  so  blithely  did  he  change  the 
subject,  after  a  laughing : 

"  Come,  come,  Pollyanna,  why  don't  you  tell  me  to 
play  the  game?  I  would  if  I  were  in  your  place. 
Forget  it,  please.  I  was  a  brute  to  make  you  look  like 
that!" 

And  Pollyanna  smiled,  and  said :  "  No,  no  —  no, 
indeed!"  But  she  did  not  "forget  it."  She  could 
not.  And  it  all  made  her  only  the  more  anxious  to 
be  with  Jamie  and  help  him  all  she  could. 

"As  if  now  I'd  ever  let  him  see  that  I  was  ever  any 
thing  but  glad  when  he  was  with  me !  "  she  thought 
fervently,  as  she  hurried  forward  a  minute  later  to 
take  her  turn  in  the  game. 

Pollyanna,  however,  was  not  the  only  one  in  the 
party  who  felt  a  new  awkwardness  and  constraint. 
Jimmy  Pendleton  felt  it,  though  he,  too,  tried  not  to 
show  it. 

Jimmy  was  not  happy  these  days.  From  a  care 
free  youth  whose  visions  were  of  wonderful  spans 
across  hitherto  unbridgeable  chasms,  he  has  come  to 


Jimmy  Wakes  Up  237 

be  an  anxious-eyed  young  man  whose  visions  were 
of  a  feared  rival  bearing  away  the  girl  he  loved. 

Jimmy  knew  very  well  now  that  he  was  in  love 
with  Pollyanna.  He  suspected  that  he  had  been  in 
love  with  her  for  some  time.  He  stood  aghast,  in 
deed,  to  find  himself  so  shaken  and  powerless  before 
this  thing  that  had  come  to  him.  He  knew  that  even 
his  beloved  bridges  were  as  nothing  when  weighed 
against  the  smile  in  a  girl's  eyes  and  the  word  on  a 
girl's  lips.  He  realized  that  the  most  wonderful  span 
in  the  world  to  him  would  be  the  thing  that  could  help 
him  to  cross  the  chasm  of  fear  and  doubt  that  he  felt 
lay  between  him  and  Pollyanna  —  doubt  because  of 
Pollyanna ;  fear  because  of  Jamie. 

Not  until  he  had  seen  Pollyanna  in  jeopardy  that 
day  in  the  pasture  had  he  realized  how  empty  would 
be  the  world  —  his  world  —  without  her.  Not  until 
his  wild  dash  for  safety  with  Pollyanna  in  his  arms 
had  he  realized  how  precious  she  was  to  him.  For  a 
moment,  indeed,  with  his  arms  about  her,  and  hers 
clinging  about  his  neck,  he  had  felt  that  she  was  in 
deed  his;  and  even  in  that  supreme  moment  of  dan 
ger  he  knew  the  thrill  of  supreme  bliss.  Then,  a  little 
later,  he  had  seen  Jamie's  face,  and  Jamie's  hands. 
To  him  they  could  mean  but  one  thing:  Jamie,  too, 
loved  Pollyanna,  and  Jamie  had  to  stand  by,  help 
less  —  "  tied  to  two  sticks."  That  was  what  he  had 
said.  Jimmy  believed  that,  had  he  himself  been 
obliged  to  stand  by  helpless,  "  tied  to  two  sticks/' 
while  another  rescued  the  girl  that  he  loved,  he  would 
have  looked  like  that. 


238  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Jimmy  had  gone  back  to  camp  that  day  with  his 
thoughts  in  a  turmoil  of  fear  and  rebellion.  He  won 
dered  if  Pollyanna  cared  for  Jamie;  that  was  where 
the  fear  came  in.  But  even  if  she  did  care,  a  little, 
must  he  stand  aside,  weakly,  and  let  Jamie,  without  a 
struggle,  make  her  learn  to  care  more?  That  was 
where  the  rebellion  came  in.  Indeed,  no,  he  would 
not  do  it,  decided  Jimmy.  It  should  be  a  fair  fight 
between  them. 

Then,  all  by  himself  as  he  was,  Jimmy  flushed  hot 
to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  Would  it  be  a  "  fair  "  fight? 
Could  any  fight  between  him  and  Jamie  be  a  "  fair  " 
fight?  Jimmy  felt  suddenly  as  he  had  felt  years  be 
fore  when,  as  a  lad,  he  had  challenged  a  new  boy  to 
a  fight  for  an  apple  they  both  claimed,  then,  at  the 
first  blow,  had  discovered  that  the  new  boy  had  a 
crippled  arm.  He  had  purposely  lost  then,  of  course, 
and  had  let  the  crippled  boy  win.  But  he  told  himself 
fiercely  now  that  this  case  was  different.  It  was  no 
apple  that  was  at  stake.  It  was  his  life's  happiness. 
It  might  even  be  Pollyanna's  life's  happiness,  too. 
Perhaps  she  did  not  care  for  Jamie  at  all,  but  would 
care  for  her  old  friend,  Jimmy,  if  he  but  once  showed 
her  he  wanted  her  to  care.  And  he  would  show  her. 
He  would  — 

Once  again  Jimmy  blushed  hotly.  But  he  frowned, 
too,  angrily:  if  only  he  could  forget  how  Jamie  had 
looked  when  he  had  uttered  that  moaning  "tied  to 
two  sticks!  "  If  only —  But  what  was  the  use?  It 
was  not  a  fair  fight,  and  he  knew  it.  He  knew,  too, 
right  there  and  then,  that  his  decision  would  be  just 


Jimmy  Wakes  Up  239 

what  it  afterwards  proved  to  be :  he  would  watch  and 
wait.  He  would  give  Jamie  his  chance ;  and  if  Polly- 
anna  showed  that  she  cared,  he  would  take  himself 
off  and  away  quite  out  of  their  lives ;  and  they  should 
never  know,  either  of  them,  how  bitterly  he  was  suf 
fering.  He  would  go  back  to  his  bridges  —  as  if  any 
bridge,  though  it  led  to  the  moon  itself,  could  com 
pare  for  a  moment  with  Pollyanna!  But  he  would 
do  it.  He  must  do  it. 

It  was  all  very  fine  and  heroic,  and  Jimmy  felt 
so  exalted  he  was  atingle  with  something  that  was 
almost  happiness  when  he  finally  dropped  off  to  sleep 
that  night.  But  martyrdom  in  theory  and  practice 
differs  woefully,  as  would-be  martyrs  have  found  out 
from  time  immemorial.  It  was  all  very  well  to  decide 
alone  and  in  the  dark  that  he  would  give  Jamie  his 
chance;  but  it  was  quite  another  matter  really  to  do 
it  when  it  involved  nothing  less  than  the  leaving  of 
Pollyanna  and  Jamie  together  almost  every  time  he 
saw  them.  Then,  too,  he  was  very  much  worried  at 
Pollyanna's  apparent  attitude  toward  the  lame  youth. 
It  looked  very  much  to  Jimmy  as  if  she  did  indeed 
care  for  him,  so  watchful  was  she  of  his  comfort,  so 
apparently  eager  to  be  with  him.  Then,  as  if  to  settle 
any  possible  doubt  in  Jimmy's  mind,  there  came  the 
day  when  Sadie  Dean  had  something  to  say  on  the 
subject. 

They  were  all  out  in  the  tennis  court.  Sadie  was 
sitting  alone  when  Jimmy  strolled  up  to  her. 

"  You  next  with  Pollyanna,  isn't  it?"  he  queried. 

She  shook  her  head. 


240  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Pollyanna  isn't  playing  any  more  this  morning." 

"  Isn't  playing ! "  frowned  Jimmy,  who  had  been 
counting  on  his  own  game  with  Pollyanna.  "  Why 
not?" 

For  a  brief  minute  Sadie  Dean  did  not  answer; 
then  with  very  evident  difficulty  she  said: 

"  Pollyanna  told  me  last  night  that  she  thought  we 
were  playing  tennis  too  much;  that  it  wasn't  kind  to 
—  Mr.  Carew,  as  long  as  he  can't  play." 

"  I  know ;  but  —  "  Jimmy  stopped  helplessly,  the 
frown  plowing  a  deeper  furrow  into  his  forehead. 
The  next  instant  he  fairly  started  with  surprise  at  the 
tense  something  in  Sadie  Dean's  voice,  as  she  said : 

"  But  he  doesn't  want  her  to  stop.  He  doesn't  want 
any  one  of  us  to  make  any  difference  —  for  him.  It's 
that  that  hurts  him  so.  She  doesn't  understand.  She 
doesn't  understand!  But  I  do.  She  thinks  she  does, 
though!" 

Something  in  words  or  manner  sent  a  sudden  pang 
to  Jimmy's  heart.  He  threw  a  sharp  look  into  her 
face.  A  question  flew  to  his  lips.  For  a  moment  he 
held  it  back ;  then,  trying  to  hide  his  earnestness  with 
a  bantering  smile,  he  let  it  come. 

"  Why,  Miss  Dean,  you  don't  mean  to  convey  the 
idea  that  —  that  there's  any  special  interest  in  each 
other  —  between  those  two,  do  you  ?  " 

She  gave  him  a  scornful  glance. 

"  Where  have  your  eyes  been?  She  worships  him! 
I  mean  —  they  worship  each  other,"  she  corrected 
hastily. 

Jimmy,  with  an  inarticulate  ejaculation,  turned  and 


Jimmy  Wakes  Up  241 

walked  away  abruptly.  He  could  not  trust  himself 
to  remain  longer.  He  did  not  wish  to  talk  any  more, 
just  then,  to  Sadie  Dean.  So  abruptly,  indeed,  did  he 
turn,  that  he  did  not  notice  that  Sadie  Dean,  too, 
turned  hurriedly,  and  busied  herself  looking  in  the 
grass  at  her  feet,  as  if  she  had  lost  something.  Very 
evidently,  Sadie  Dean,  also,  did  not  wish  to  talk  any 
more  just  then. 

Jimmy  Pendleton  told  himself  that  it  was  not  true 
at  all;  that  it  was  all  falderal,  what  Sadie  Dean  had 
said.  Yet  nevertheless,  true  or  not  true,  he  could  not 
forget  it.  It  colored  all  his  thoughts  thereafter,  and 
loomed  before  his  eyes  like  a  shadow  whenever  he  saw 
Pollyanna  and  Jamie  together.  He  watched  their 
faces  covertly.  He  listened  to  the  tones  of  their 
voices.  He  came  then,  in  time,  to  think  it  was,  after 
all,  true:  that  they  did  worship  each  other;  and  his 
heart,  in  consequence,  grew  like  lead  within  him. 
True  to  his  promise  to  himself,  however,  he  turned 
resolutely  away.  The  die  was  cast,  he  told  himself. 
Pollyanna  was  not  to  be  for  him. 

Restless  days  for  Jimmy  followed.  To  stay  away 
from  the  Harrington  homestead  entirely  he  did  not 
dare,  lest  his  secret  be  suspected.  To  be  with  Polly 
anna  at  all  now  was  torture.  Even  to  be  with  Sadie 
Dean  was  unpleasant,  for  he  could  not  forget  that  it 
was  Sadie  Dean  who  had  finally  opened  his  eyes. 
Jamie,  certainly,  was  no  haven  of  refuge,  under  the 
circumstances;  and  that  left  only  Mrs.  Carew.  Mrs. 
Carew,  however,  was  a  host  in  herself,  and  Jimmy 
found  his  only  comfort  these  days  in  her  society.  Gay 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


or  grave,  she  always  seemed  to  know  how  to  fit  his 
mood  exactly;  and  it  was  wonderful  how  much  she 
knew  about  bridges  —  the  kind  of  bridges  he  was  go 
ing  to  build.  She  was  so  wise,  too,  and  so  sympa 
thetic,  knowing  always  just  the  right  word  to  say. 
He  even  one  day  almost  told  her  about  The  Packet; 
but  John  Pendleton  interrupted  them  at  just  the  wrong 
moment,  so  the  story  was  not  told.  John  Pendleton 
was  always  interrupting  them  at  just  the  wrong  mo 
ment,  Jimmy  thought  vexedly,  sometimes.  Then, 
when  he  remembered  what  John  Pendleton  had  done 
for  him,  he  was  ashamed. 

"The  Packet"  was  a  thing  that  dated  back  to 
Jimmy's  boyhood,  and  had  never  been  mentioned  to 
any  one  save  to  John  Pendleton,  and  that  only  once, 
at  the  time  of  his  adoption.  The  Packet  was  nothing 
but  rather  a  large  white  envelope,  worn  with  time,  and 
plump  with  mystery  behind  a  huge  red  seal.  It  had 
been  given  him  by  his  father,  and  it  bore  the  following 
instructions  in  his  father's  hand  : 

"  To  my  boy,  Jimmy.  Not  to  be  opened  until  his 
thirtieth  birthday  except  in  case  of  his  death,  when  it 
shall  be  opened  at  once/' 

There  were  times  when  Jimmy  speculated  a  good 
deal  as  to  the  contents  of  that  envelope.  There  were 
other  times  when  he  forgot  its  existence.  In  the  old 
days,  at  the  Orphans'  Home,  his  chief  terror  had  been 
that  it  should  be  discovered  and  taken  away  from  him. 
In  those  days  he  wore  it  always  hidden  in  the  lining 
of  his  coat.  Of  late  years,  at  John  Pendleton's  sug 
gestion,  it  had  been  tucked  away  in  the  Pendleton  safe. 


Jimmy  Wakes  Up  243 

"  For  there's  no  knowing  how  valuable  it  may  be," 
John  Pendleton  had  said,  with  a  smile.  "  And,  any 
way,  your  father  evidently  wanted  you  to  have  it, 
and  we  wouldn't  want  to  run  the  risk  of  losing  it." 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  want  to  lose  it,  of  course,"  Jimmy 
had  smiled  back,  a  little  soberly.  "  But  I'm  not  count 
ing  on  its  being  real  valuable,  sir.  Poor  dad  didn't 
have  anything  that  was  very  valuable  about  him,  as  I 
remember." 

It  was  this  Packet  that  Jimmy  came  so  near  men 
tioning  to  Mrs.  Carew  one  day,  —  if  only  John  Pen 
dleton  had  not  interrupted  them. 

"  Still,  maybe  it's  just  as  well  I  didn't  tell  her  about 
it,"  Jimmy  reflected  afterwards,  on  his  way  home. 
"  She  might  have  thought  dad  had  something  in  his 
life  that  wasn't  quite  —  right.  And  I  wouldn't  have 
wanted  her  to  think  that  —  of  dad." 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE     GAME     AND     POLLYANNA 

BEFORE  the  middle  of  September  the  Carews  and 
Sadie  Dean  said  good-by  and  went  back  to  Boston. 
Much  as  she  knew  she  would  miss  them,  Pollyanna 
drew  an  actual  sigh  of  relief  as  the  train  bearing  them 
away  rolled  out  of  the  Beldingsville  station.  Polly 
anna  would  not  have  admitted  having  this  feeling  of 
relief  to  any  one  else,  and  even  to  herself  she  apolo 
gized  in  her  thoughts. 

"  It  isn't  that  I  don't  love  them  dearly,  every  one  of 
them,"  she  sighed,  watching  the  train  disappear  around 
the  curve  far  down  the  track.  "  It's  only  that  —  that 
I'm  so  sorry  for  poor  Jamie  all  the  time ;  and  —  and 
—  I  am  tired.  I  shall  be  glad,  for  a  while,  just  to  go 
back  to  the  old  quiet  days  with  Jimmy." 

Pollyanna,  however,  did  not  go  back  to  the  old 
quiet  days  with  Jimmy.  The  days  that  immediately 
followed  the  going  of  the  Carews  were  quiet,  cer 
tainly,  but  they  were  not  passed  "  with  Jimmy." 
Jimmy  rarely  came  near  the  house  now,  and  when  he 
did  call,  he  was  not  the  old  Jimmy  that  she  used  to 
know.  He  was  moody,  restless,  and  silent,  or  else 
very  gay  and  talkative  in  a  nervous  fashion  that  was 
most  puzzling  and  annoying.  Before  long,  too,  he 

244 


The  Game  and  Pollyanna  245 

himself  went  to  Boston;  and  then  of  course  she  did 
not  see  him  at  all. 

Pollyanna  was  surprised  then  to  see  how  much  she 
missed  him.  Even  to  know  that  he  was  in  town,  and 
that  there  was  a  chance  that  he  might  come  over,  was 
better  than  the  dreary  emptiness  of  certain  absence; 
and  even  his  puzzling  moods  of  alternating  gloominess 
and  gayety  were  preferable  to  this  utter  silence  of 
nothingness.  Then,  one  day,  suddenly  she  pulled  her 
self  up  with  hot  cheeks  and  shamed  eyes. 

"  Well,  Pollyanna  Whittier,"  she  upbraided  herself 
sharply,  "  one  would  think  you  were  in  love  with 
Jimmy  Bean  Pendleton !  Can't  you  think  of  anything 
but  him?" 

Whereupon,  forthwith,  she  bestirred  herself  to  be 
very  gay  and  lively  indeed,  and  to  put  this  Jimmy  Bean 
Pendleton  out  of  her  thoughts.  As  it  happened,  Aunt 
Polly,  though  unwittingly,  helped  her  to  this. 

With  the  going  of  the  Carews  had  gone  also  their 
chief  source  of  immediate  income,  and  Aunt  Polly  was 
beginning  to  worry  again,  audibly,  about  the  state  of 
their  finances. 

"  I  don't  know,  really,  Pollyanna,  what  is  going  to 
become  of  us,"  she  would  moan  frequently.  "Of 
course  we  are  a  little  ahead  now  from  this  summer's 
work,  and  we  have  a  small  sum  from  the  estate  right 
along;  but  I  never  know  how  soon  that's  going  to 
stop,  like  all  the  rest.  If  only  we  could  do  something 
to  bring  in  some  ready  cash !  " 

It  was  after  one  of  these  moaning  lamentations  one 
day  that  Pollyanna's  eyes  chanced  to  fall  on  a  prize- 


246  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

story  contest  offer.  It  was  a  most  alluring  one.  The 
prizes  were  large  and  numerous.  The  conditions  were 
set  forth  in  glowing  terms.  To  read  it,  one  would 
think  that  to  win  out  were  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world.  It  contained  even  a  special  appeal  that  might 
have  been  framed  for  Pollyanna  herself. 

'This  is  for  you  —  you  who  read  this,"  it  ran. 
''What  if  you  never  have  written  a  story  before! 
That  is  no  sign  you  cannot  write  one.  Try  it.  That's 
all.  Wouldn't  you  like  three  thousand  dollars  ?  Two 
thousand?  One  thousand?  Five  hundred,  or  even 
one  hundred  ?  Then  why  not  go  after  it  ?  " 

"The  very  thing!"  cried  Pollyanna,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  I'm  so  glad  I  saw  it !  And  it  says  I  can  do 
it,  too.  I  thought  I  could,  if  I'd  just  try.  I'll  go 
tell  auntie,  so  she  needn't  worry  any  more." 

Pollyanna  was  on  her  feet  and  half  way  to  the  door 
when  a  second  thought  brought  her  steps  to  a  pause. 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  reckon  I  won't,  after  all. 
It'll  be  all  the  nicer  to  surprise  her;  and  if  I  should 
get  the  first  one  — !  " 

Pollyanna  went  to  sleep  that  night  planning  what 
she  could  do  with  that  three  thousand  dollars. 

Pollyanna  began  her  story  the  next  day.  That  is, 
she,  with  a  very  important  air,  got  out  a  quantity  of 
paper,  sharpened  up  half-a-dozen  pencils,  and  estab 
lished  herself  at  the  big  old-fashioned  Harrington 
desk  in  the  living-room.  After  biting  restlessly  at 
the  ends  of  two  of  her  pencils,  she  wrote  down  three 
words  on  the  fair  white  page  before  her.  Then  she 
drew  a  long  sigh,  threw  aside  the  second  ruined  pen- 


The  Game  and  Pollyanna  247 

cil,  and  picked  up  a  slender  green  one  with  a  beautiful 
point.  This  point  she  eyed  with  a  meditative  frown, 

"  O  dear !  I  wonder  where  they  get  their  titles," 
she  despaired.  "  Maybe,  though,  I  ought  to  decide  on 
the  story  first,  and  then  make  a  title  to  fit.  Anyhow, 
I'm  going  to  do  it."  And  forthwith  she  drew  a  black 
line  through  the  three  words  and  poised  the  pencil  for 
a  fresh  start. 

The  start  was  not  made  at  once,  however.  Even 
when  it  was  made,  it  must  have  been  a  false  one,  for 
at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  whole  page  was  noth 
ing  but  a  jumble  of  scratched-out  lines,  with  only  a 
few  words  here  and  there  left  to  tell  the  tale. 

At  this  juncture  Aunt  Polly  came  into  the  room. 
She  turned  tired  eyes  upon  her  niece. 

"  Well,  Pollyanna,  what  are  you  up  to  now  ?  "  she 
demanded. 

Pollyanna  laughed  and  colored  guiltily. 

"  Nothing  much,  auntie.  Anyhow,  it  doesn't  look 
as  if  it  were  much  —  yet,"  she  admitted,  with  a  rueful 
smile.  "  Besides,  it's  a  secret,  and  I'm  not  going  to 
tell  it  yet." 

"Very  well;  suit  yourself,"  sighed  Aunt  Polly. 
"  But  I  can  tell  you  right  now  that  if  you're  trying  to 
make  anything  different  out  of  those  mortgage  papers 
Mr.  Hart  left,  it's  useless.  I've  been  all  over  them 
myself  twice." 

"  No,  dear,  it  isn't  the  papers.  It's  a  whole  heap 
nicer  than  any  papers  ever  could  be,"  crowed  Polly 
anna  triumphantly,  turning  back  to  her  work.  In 
Pollyanna's  eyes  suddenly  had  risen  a  glowing  vision 


248  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

of  what  it  might  be,  with  that  three  thousand  dollars 
once  hers. 

For  still  another  half -hour  Pollyanna  wrote  and 
scratched,  and  chewed  her  pencils;  then,  with  her 
courage  dulled,  but  not  destroyed,  she  gathered  up 
her  papers  and  pencils  and  left  the  room. 

"  I  reckon  maybe  I'll  do  better  by  myself  up-stairs," 
she  was  thinking  as  she  hurried  through  the  hall.  "  I 
thought  I  ought  to  do  it  at  a  desk  —  being  literary 
work,  so  —  but  anyhow,  the  desk  didn't  help  me 
any  this  morning.  I'll  try  the  window  seat  in  my 


room." 


The  window  seat,  however,-  proved  to  be  no  more 
inspiring,  judging  by  the  scratched  and  re-scratched 
pages  that  fell  from  Pollyanna's  hands;  and  at  the 
end  of  another  half -hour  Pollyanna  discovered  sud 
denly  that  it  was  time  to  get  dinner. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  'tis,  anyhow/'  she  sighed  to  her 
self.  "  I'd  a  lot  rather  get  dinner  than  do  this.  Not 
but  that  I  want  to  do  this,  of  course ;  only  I'd  no  idea 
'twas  such  an  awful  job  —  just  a  story,  so! " 

During  the  following  month  Pollyanna  worked 
faithfully,  doggedly,  but  she  soon  found  that  "just 
a  story,  so  "  was  indeed  no  small  matter  to  accom 
plish.  Pollyanna,  however,  was  not  one  to  set  her 
hand  to  the  plow  and  look  back.  Besides,  there  was 
that  three-thousand-dollar  prize,  or  even  any  of  the 
others,  if  she  should  not  happen  to  win  the  first  one! 
Of  course  even  one  hundred  dollars  was  something! 
So  day  after  day  she  wrote  and  erased,  and  rewrote, 
until  finally  the  story,  such  as  it  was.  lay  completed 


The  Game  and  Pollyanna  249 

before  her.  Then,  with  some  misgivings,  it  must  be 
confessed,  she  took  the  manuscript  to  Milly  Snow  to 
be  typewritten. 

"  It  reads  all  right  —  that  is,  it  makes  sense," 
mused  Pollyanna  doubtfully,  as  she  hurried  along 
toward  the  Snow  cottage;  "  and  it's  a  real  nice  story 
about  a  perfectly  lovely  girl.  But  there's  something 
somewhere  that  isn't  quite  right  about  it,  I'm  afraid. 
Anyhow,  I  don't  believe  I'd  better  count  too  much  on 
the  first  prize ;  then  I  won't  be  too  much  disappointed 
when  I  get  one  of  the  littler  ones." 

Pollyanna  always  thought  of  Jimmy  when  she  went 
to  the  Snows',  for  it  was  at  the  side  of  the  road  near 
their  cottage  that  she  had  first  seen  him  as  a  forlorn 
little  runaway  lad  from  the  Orphans'  Home  years  be 
fore.  She  thought  of  him  again  to-day,  with  a  little 
catch  of  her  breath.  Then,  with  the  proud  lifting  of 
her  head  that  always  came  now  with  the  second 
thought  of  Jimmy,  she  hurried  up  the  Snows'  door 
steps  and  rang  the  bell. 

As  was  usually  the  case,  the  Snows  had  nothing  but 
the  warmest  of  welcomes  for  Pollyanna;  and  also  as 
usual  it  was  not  long  before  they  were  talking  of  the 
game :  in  no  home  in  Beldingsville  was  the  glad  game 
more  ardently  played  than  in  the  Snows'. 

"Well,  and  how  are  you  getting  along?"  asked 
Pollyanna,  when  she  had  finished  the  business  part 
of  her  call. 

"  Splendidly!  "  beamed  Milly  Snow.  "  This  is  the 
third  job  I've  got  this  week.  Oh,  Miss  Pollyanna, 
I'm  so  glad  you  had  me  take  up  typewriting,  for  you 


250  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

see  I  can  do  that  right  at  home !  And  it's  all  owing  to 
you." 

"Nonsense!"  disclaimed  Pollyanna,  merrily. 

"  But  it  is.  In  the  first  place,  I  couldn't  have  done 
it  anyway  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  game  —  making 
mother  so  much  better,  you  know,  that  I  had  some 
time  to  myself.  And  then,  at  the  very  first,  you  sug 
gested  typewriting,  and  helped  me  to  buy  a  machine. 
I  should  like  to  know  if  that  doesn't  come  pretty  near 
owing  it  all  to  you !  " 

But  once  again  Pollyanna  objected.  This  time  she 
was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Snow  from  her  wheel  chair 
by  the  window.  And  so  earnestly  and  gravely  did 
Mrs.  Snow  speak,  that  Pollyanna,  in  spite  of  herself, 
could  but  hear  what  she  had  to  say. 

"  Listen,  child,  I  don't  think  you  know  quite  what 
you've  done.  But  I  wish  you  could!  There's  a  little 
look  in  your  eyes,  my  dear,  to-day,  that  I  don't  like 
to  see  there.  You  are  plagued  and  worried  over  some 
thing,  I  know,  il  can  see  it.  And  I  don't  wonder: 
your  uncle's  death,  your  aunt's  condition,  everything 
—  I  won't  say  more  about  that.  But  there's  some 
thing  I  do  want  to  say,  my  dear,  and  you  must  let 
me  say  it,  for  I  can't  bear  to  see  that  shadow  in  your 
eyes  without  trying  to  drive  it  away  by  telling  you 
what  you've  done  for  me,  for  this  whole  town,  and 
for  countless  other  people  everywhere." 

"Mrs.  Snow!"  protested  Pollyanna,  in  genuine 
distress. 

"Oh,  I  mean  it,  and  I  know  what  I'm  talking 
about,"  nodded  the  invalid,  triumphantly.  "To  be- 


The  Game  and  Pollyanna  251 

gin  with,  look  at  me.  Didn't  you  find  me  a  fretful, 
whining  creature  who  never  by  any  chance  wanted 
what  she  had  until  she  found  what  she  didn't  have? 
And  didn't  you  open  my  eyes  by  bringing  me  three 
kinds  of  things  so  I'd  have  to  have  what  I  wanted,  for 
once?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Snow,  was  I  really  ever  quite  so  —  im 
pertinent  as  that  ?  "  murmured  Pollyanna,  with  a  pain 
ful  blush. 

"  It  wasn't  impertinent,"  objected  Mrs.  Snow, 
stoutly.  "  You  didn't  mean  it  as  impertinence  —  and 
that  made  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  You  didn't 
preach,  either,  my  dear.  If  you  had,  you'd  never  have 
got  me  to  playing  the  game,  nor  anybody  else,  I 
fancy.  But  you  did  get  me  to  playing  it  —  and  see 
what  it's  done  for  me,  and  for  Milly!  Here  I  am  so 
much  better  that  I  can  sit  in  a  wheel  chair  and  go 
anywhere  on  this  floor  in  it.  That  means  a  whole 
lot  when  it  comes  to  waiting  on  yourself,  and  giving 
those  around  you  a  chance  to  breathe  —  meaning 
Milly,  in  this  case.  And  the  doctor  says  it's  all  owing 
to  the  game.  Then  there's  others,  quantities  of 
others,  right  in  this  town,  that  I'm  hearing  of  all  the 
time.  Nellie  Mahoney  broke  her  wrist  and  was  so 
glad  it  wasn't  her  leg  that  she  didn't  mind  the  wrist 
at  all.  Old  Mrs.  Tibbits  has  lost  her  hearing,  but 
she's  so  glad  'tisnVher  eyesight  that  she's  actually 
happy.  Do  you  remember  cross-eyed  Joe  that  they 
used  to  call  Cross  Joe,  because  of  his  temper?  Noth 
ing  went  to  suit  him  either,  any  more  than  it  did  me. 
Well,  somebody's  taught  him  the  game,  they  say,  and 


252  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

made  a  different  man  of  him.  And  listen,  dear.  It's 
not  only  this  town,  but  other  places.  I  had  a  letter 
yesterday  from  my  cousin  in  Massachusetts,  and  she 
told  me  all  about  Mrs.  Tom  Payson  that  used  to  live 
here.  Do  you  remember  them?  They  lived  on  the 
way  up  Pendleton  Hill." 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes,  I  remember  them,"  cried  Pollyanna. 

"  Well,  they  left  here  that  winter  you  were  in  the 
Sanatorium  and  went  to  Massachusetts  where  my 
sister  lives.  She  knows  them  well.  She  says  Mrs. 
Payson  told  her  all  about  you,  and  how  your  glad 
game  actually  saved  them  from  a  divorce.  And  now 
not  only  do  they  play  it  themselves,  but  they've  got 
quite  a  lot  of  others  playing  it  down  there,  and  they're 
getting  still  others.  So  you  see,  dear,  there's  no  tell 
ing  where  that  glad  game  of  yours  is  going  to  stop. 
I  wanted  you  to  know.  I  thought  it  might  help  — 
even  you  to  play  the  game  sometimes ;  for  don't  think 
I  don't  understand,  dearie,  that  it  is  hard  for  you  to 
play  your  own  game  —  sometimes." 

Pollyanna  rose  to  her  feet.  She  smiled,  but  her 
eyes  glistened  with  tears,  as  she  held  out  her  hand  in 
good-by. 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Snow,"  she  said  unsteadily.  "  It 
'is  hard  —  sometimes ;  and  maybe  I  did  need  a  little 
help  about  my  own  game.  But,  anyhow,  now  — " 
her  eyes  flashed  with  their  old  merriment  —  "if  any 
time  I  think  I  can't  play  the  game  myself  I  can  remem 
ber  that  I  can  still  always  be  glad  there  are  some  folks 
playing  it !  " 

Pollyanna  walked  home  a  little  soberly  that  after- 


The  Game  and  Pollyanna  253 

noon.  Touched  as  she  was  by  what  Mrs.  Snow  had 
said,  there  was  yet  an  undercurrent  of  sadness  in  it 
all.  She  was  thinking  of  Aunt  Polly  —  Aunt  Polly 
who  played  the  game  now  so  seldom;  and  she  was 
wondering  if  she  herself  always  played  it,  when  she 
might. 

"  Maybe  I  haven't  been  careful,  always,  to  hunt  up 
the  glad  side  of  the  things  Aunt  Polly  says,"  she 
thought  with  undefined  guiltiness;  "and  maybe  if  I 
played  the  game  better  myself,  Aunt  Polly  would  play 
it  —  a  little.  Anyhow  I'm  going  to  try.  If  I  don't 
look  out,  all  these  other  people  will  be  playing  my 
own  game  better  than  I  am  myself!  " 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

JOHN    PENDLETON 

IT  was  just  a  week  before  Christmas  that  Pollyanna 
sent  her  story  (now  neatly  typewritten)  in  for  the 
contest.  The  prize-winners  would  not  be  announced 
until  April,  the  magazine  notice  said,  so  Pollyanna 
settled  herself  for  the  long  wait  with  characteristic, 
philosophical  patience. 

"  I  don't  know,  anyhow,  but  I'm  glad  'tis  so  long," 
she  told  herself,  "  for  all  winter  I  can  have  the  fun 
of  thinking  it  may  be  the  first  one  instead  of  one  of 
the  others,  that  I'll  get.  I  might  just  as  well  think 
I'm  going  to  get  it,  then  if  I  do  get  it,  I  won't 
have  been  unhappy  any.  While  if  I  don't  get  it  —  I 
won't  have  had  all  these  weeks  of  unhappiness  before 
hand,  anyway;  and  I  can  be  glad  for  one  of  the 
smaller  ones,  then."  That  she  might  not  get  any 
prize  was  not  in  Pollyanna's  calculations  at  all.  The 
story i  so  beautifully  typed  by  Milly  Snow,  looked  al 
most  as  good  as  printed  already  —  to  Pollyanna. 

Christmas  was  not  a  happy  time  at  the  Harrington 
homestead  that  year,  in  spite  of  Pollyanna's  strenuous 
efforts  to  make  it  so.  Aunt  Polly  refused  absolutely 
to  allow  any  sort  of  celebration  of  the  day,  and  made 
her  attitude  so  unmistakably  plain  that  Pollyanna 
could  not  give  even  the  simplest  of  presents. 

254 


John  Pendleton  255 

Christmas  evening  John  Pendleton  called.  Mrs. 
Chilton  excused  herself,  but  Pollyanna,  utterly  worn 
out  from  a  long  day  with  her  aunt,  welcomed  him 
joyously.  But  even  here  she  found  a  fly  in  the  amber 
of  her  content ;  for  John  Pendleton  had  brought  with 
him  a  letter  from  Jimmy,  and  the  letter  was  full  of 
nothing  but  the  plans  he  and  Mrs.  Carew  were  ma 
king  for  a  wonderful  Christmas  celebration  at  the 
Home  for  Working  Girls:  and  Pollyanna,  ashamed 
though  she  was  to  own  it  to  herself,  was  not  in  a 
mood  to  hear  about  Christmas  celebrations  just  then 
—  least  of  all,  Jimmy's. 

John  Pendleton,  however,  was  not  ready  to  let  the 
subject  drop,  even  when  the  letter  had  been  read. 

"  Great  doings  — -  those !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
folded  the  letter. 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  fine !  "  murmured  Pollyanna,  trying 
to  speak  with  due  enthusiasm. 

"  And  it's  to-night,  too,  isn't  it  ?  I'd  like  to  drop  in 
on  them  about  now." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Pollyanna  again,  with  still  more 
careful  enthusiasm. 

"  Mrs.  Carew  knew  what  she  was  about  when  she 
got  Jimmy  to  help  her,  I  fancy,"  chuckled  the  man. 
"  But  I'm  wondering  how  Jimmy  likes  it  —  playing 
Santa  Claus  to  half  a  hundred  young  women  at  once !  " 

"Why,  he  finds  it  delightful,  of  course!"  Polly 
anna  lifted  her  chin  ever  so  slightly. 

"  Maybe.  Still,  it's  a  little  different  from  learning 
to  build  bridges,  you  must  confess." 

"  Oh,  yes." 


256  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  But  I'll  risk  Jimmy,  and  I'll  risk  wagering  that 
those  girls  never  had  a  better  time  than  he'll  give  them 
to-night,  too." 

'  Y-yes,  of  course,"  stammered  Pollyanna,  trying 
to  keep  the  hated  tremulousness  out  of  her  voice,  and 
trying  very  hard  not  to  compare  her  own  dreary  eve 
ning  in  Beldingsville  with  nobody  but  John  Pendle- 
ton  to  that  of  those  fifty  girls  in  Boston  —  with 
Jimmy. 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  during  which  John  Pen- 
dleton  gazed  dreamily  at  the  dancing  fire  on  the 
hearth. 

"  She's  a  wonderful  woman  —  Mrs.  Carew  is,"  he 
said  at  last. 

"She  is,  indeed!"  This  time  the  enthusiasm  in 
Pollyanna's  voice  was  all  pure  gold. 

"  Jimmy's  written  me  before  something  of  what 
she's  done  for  those  girls,"  went  on  the  man,  still 
gazing  into  the  fire.  "  In  just  the  last  letter  before 
this  he  wrote  a  lot  about  it,  and  about  her.  He  said 
he  always  admired  her,  but  never  so  much  as  now, 
when  he  can  see  what  she  really  is." 

"  She's  a  dear  —  that's  what  Mrs.  Carew  is,"  de 
clared  Pollyanna,  warmly.  "  She's  a  dear  in  every 
way,  and  I  love  her." 

John  Pendleton  stirred  suddenly.  He  turned  to 
Pollyanna  with  an  oddly  whimsical  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  know  you  do,  my  dear.  For  that  matter,  there 
may  be  others,  too  —  that  love  her." 

Pollyanna's  heart  skipped  a  beat.  A  sudden  thought 
came  to  her  with  stunning,  blinding  force.  Jimmy! 


John  Pendleton  257 

Could  John  Pendleton  be  meaning  that  Jimmy  cared 
that  way  —  for  Mrs.  Carew  ? 

"You  mean — ?"  she  faltered.  She  could  not 
finish. 

With  a  nervous  twitch  peculiar  to  him,  John  Pen 
dleton  got  to  his  feet. 

"  I  mean  —  the  girls,  of  course/'  he  answered 
lightly,  still  with  that  whimsical  smile.  "  Don't  you 
suppose  those  fifty  girls  —  love  her  'most  to  death?" 

Pollyanna  said  "  yes,  of  course,"  and  murmured 
something  else  appropriate,  in  answer  to  John  Pendle- 
ton's  next  remark.  But  her  thoughts  were  in  a  tumult, 
and  she  let  the  man  do  most  of  the  talking  for  the  rest 
of  the  evening. 

Nor  did  John  Pendleton  seem  averse  to  this.  Rest 
lessly  he  took  a  turn  or  two  about  the  room,  then  sat 
down  in  his  old  place.  And  when  he  spoke,  it  was  on 
his  old  subject,  Mrs.  Carew. 

"Queer  —  about  that  Jamie  of  hers,  isn't  it?  I 
wonder  if  he  is  her  nephew." 

As  Pollyanna  did  not  answer,  the  man  went  on, 
after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  He's  a  fine  fellow,  anyway.  I  like  him.  There's 
something  fine  and  genuine  about  him.  She's  bound 
up  in  him.  That's  plain  to  be  seen,  whether  he's  really 
her  kin  or  not." 

There  was  another  pause,  then,  in  a  slightly  altered 
voice,  John  Pendleton  said: 

"  Still  it's  queer,  too,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it, 
that  she  never  —  married  again.  She  is  certainly  now 
—  a  very  beautiful  woman.  Don't  you  think  so?" 


258  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Yes  —  yes,  indeed  she  is,"  plunged  in  Pollyanna, 
with  precipitate  haste;  "a  —  a  very  beautiful  woman." 

There  was  a  little  break  at  the  last  in  Pollyanna's 
voice.  Pollyanna,  just  then,  had  caught  sight  of  her 
own  face  in  the  mirror  opposite  —  and  Pollyanna  to 
herself  was  never  "  a  very  beautiful  woman." 

On  and  on  rambled  John  Pendleton,  musingly,  con 
tentedly,  his  eyes  on  the  fire.  Whether  he  was  an 
swered  or  not  seemed  not  to  disturb  him.  Whether 
he  was  even  listened  to  or  not,  he  seemed  hardly  to 
know.  He  wanted,  apparently,  only  to  talk;  but  at 
last  he  got  to  his  feet  reluctantly  and  said  good-night. 

For  a  weary  half -hour  Pollyanna  had  been  long 
ing  for  him  to  go,  that  she  might  be  alone ;  but  after 
he  had  gone  she  wished  he  were  back.  She  had  found 
suddenly  that  she  did  not  want  to  be  alone  —  with 
her  thoughts. 

It  was  wonderfully  clear  to  Pollyanna  now.  There 
was  no  doubt  of  it.  Jimmy  cared  for  Mrs.  Carew. 
That  was  why  he  was  so  moody  and  restless  after  she 
left.  That  was  why  he  had  come  so  seldom  to  see 
her,  Pollyanna,  his  old  friend.  That  was  why  - 

Countless  little  circumstances  of  the  past  summer 
flocked  to  Pollyanna's  memory  now,  mute  witnesses 
that  would  not  be  denied. 

And  why  should  he  not  care  for  her?  Mrs.  Carew 
was  certainly  beautiful  and  charming.  True,  she  was 
older  than  Jimmy;  but  young  men  had  married 
women  far  older  than  she,  many  times.  And  if  they 
loved  each  other  — 

Pollyanna  cried  herself  to  sleep  that  night. 


John  Pendleton  259 

In  the  morning,  bravely  she  tried  to  face  the  thing. 
She  even  tried,  with  a  tearful  smile,  to  put  it  to  the 
test  of  the  glad  game.  She  was  reminded  then  of 
something  Nancy  had  said  to  her  years  before :  "  If 
there  is  a  set  o'  folks  in  the  world  that  wouldn't  have 
no  use  for  that  'ere  glad  game  o'  your'n,  it'd  be  a  pair 
o'  quarrellin'  lovers !  " 

"  Not  that  we're  '  quarrelling,'  or  even  '  lovers,' ' 
thought  Pollyanna  blushingly;  "but  just  the  same  I 
can    be   glad    he's   glad,    and    glad   she's   glad,    too, 
only  —  "     Even  to  herself  Pollyanna  could  not  finish 
this  sentence. 

Being  so  sure  now  that  Jimmy  and  Mrs.  Carew 
cared  for  each  other,  Pollyanna  became  peculiarly 
sensitive  to  everything  that  tended  to  strengthen  that 
belief.  And  being  ever  on  the  watch  for  it,  she  found 
it,  as  was  to  be  expected.  First  in  Mrs.  Carew's  let 
ters. 

"  I  am  seeing  a  lot  of  your  friend,  young  Pendle 
ton,"  Mrs.  Carew  wrote  one  day;  "and  I'm  liking 
him  more  and  more.  I  do  wish,  however  —  just  for 
curiosity's  sake  —  that  I  could  trace  to  its  source  that 
elusive  feeling  that  I've  seen  him  before  somewhere." 

Frequently,  after  this,  she  mentioned  him  casually; 
and,  to  Pollyanna,  in  the  very  casualness  of  these 
references  lay  their  sharpest  sting;  for  it  showed  so 
unmistakably  that  Jimmy  and  Jimmy's  presence  were 
now  to  Mrs.  Carew  a  matter  of  course.  From  other 
sources,  too,  Pollyanna  found  fuel  for  the  fire  of  her 
suspicions.  More  and  more  frequently  John  Pendle 
ton  "  dropped  in  "  with  his  stories  of  Jimmy,  and  of 


260  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

what  Jimmy  was  doing;  and  always  here  there  was 
mention  of  Mrs.  Carew.  Poor  Pollyanna  wondered, 
indeed,  sometimes,  if  John  Pendleton  could  not  talk 
of  anything  but  Mrs.  Carew  and  Jimmy,  so  constantly 
was  one  or  the  other  of  those  names  on  his  lips. 

There  were  Sadie  Dean's  letters,  too,  and  they  told 
of  Jimmy,  and  of  what  he  was  doing  to  help  Mrs. 
Carew.  Even  Jamie,  who  wrote  occasionally,  had  his 
mite  to  add,  for  he  wrote  one  evening: 

"  It's  ten  o'clock.  I'm  sitting  here  alone  waiting 
for  Mrs.  Carew  to  come  home.  She  and  Pendleton 
have  been  to  one  of  their  usual  socials  down  to  the 
Home." 

From  Jimmy  himself  Pollyanna  heard  very  rarely; 
and  for  that  she  told  herself  mournfully  that  she  could 
foe  glad. 

"  For  if  he  can't  write  about  anything  but  Mrs. 
Carew  and  those  girls,  I'm  glad  he  doesn't  write  very 
often !  "  she  sighed. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

THE   DAY   POLLYANNA   DID   NOT    PLAY 

AND  so  one  by  one  the  winter  days  passed.  Janu 
ary  and  February  slipped  away  in  snow  and  sleet, 
and  March  came  in  with  a  gale  that  whistled  and 
moaned  around  the  old  house,  and  set  loose  blinds  to 
swinging  and  loose  gates  to  creaking  in  a  way  that 
was  most  trying  to  nerves  already  stretched  to  the 
breaking  point. 

Pollyanna  was  not  finding  it  very  easy  these  days 
to  play  the  game,  but  she  was  playing  it  faithfully, 
valiantly.  Aunt  Polly  was  not  playing  it  at  all  — 
which  certainly  did  not  make  it  any  the  easier  for 
Pollyanna  to  play  it.  Aunt  Polly  was  blue  and  dis 
couraged.  She  was  not  well,  too,  and  she  had  plainly 
abandoned  herself  to  utter  gloom. 

Pollyanna  still  was  counting  on  the  prize  contest. 
She  had  dropped  from  the  first  prize  to  one  of  the 
smaller  ones,  however:  Pollyanna  had  been  writing 
more  stories,  and  the  regularity  with  which  they  came 
back  from  their  pilgrimages  to  magazine  editors  was 
beginning  to  shake  her  faith  in  her  success  as  an 
author. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  can  be  glad  that  Aunt  Polly  doesn't 
know  anything  about  it,  anyway,"  declared  Pollyanna 
to  herself  bravely,  as  she  twisted  in  her  fingers  the 

261 


262  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  declined- with-thanks  "  slip  that  had  just  towed  in 
one  more  shipwrecked  story.  "  She  can't  worry  about 
this  —  she  doesn't  know  about  it !  " 

All  of  Pollyanna' s  life  these  days  revolved  around 
Aunt  Polly,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  even  Aunt  Polly 
herself  realized  how  exacting  she  had  become,  and 
how  entirely  her  niece  was  giving  up  her  life  to  her. 

It  was  on  a  particularly  gloomy  day  in  March  that 
matters  came,  in  a  way,  to  a  climax.  Pollyanna,  upon 
arising,  had  looked  at  the  sky  with  a  sigh  —  Aunt 
Polly  was  always  more  difficult  on  cloudy  days.  With 
a  gay  little  song,  however,  that  still  sounded  a  bit 
forced  —  Pollyanna  descended  to  the  kitchen  and  be 
gan  to  prepare  breakfast. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  make  corn  muffins,"  she  told  the 
stove  confidentially ;  "  then  maybe  Aunt  Polly  won't 
mind  —  other  things  so  much." 

Half  an  hour  later  she  tapped  at  her  aunt's  door. 

"  Up  so  soon  ?  Oh,  that's  fine !  And  you've  done 
your  hair  yourself !  " 

"  I  couldn't  sleep.  I  had  to  get  up,"  sighed  Aunt 
Polly,  wearily.  "  I  had  to  do  my  hair,  too.  You 
weren't  here." 

"  But  I  didn't  suppose  you  were  ready  for  me, 
auntie,"  explained  Pollyanna,  hurriedly.  "  Never 
mind,  though.  You'll  be  glad  I  wasn't  when  you  find 
what  I've  been  doing." 

"  Well,  I  sha'n't  —  not  this  morning,"  frowned 
Aunt  Polly,  perversely.  "  Nobody  could  be  glad  this 
morning.  Look  at  it  rain!  That  makes  the  third 
rainy  day  this  week." 


The  Day  Pollyanna  Did  Not  Play     263 

"  That's  so  —  but  you  know  the  sun  never  seems 
quite  so  perfectly  lovely  as  it  does  after  a  lot  of  rain 
like  this,"  smiled  Pollyanna,  deftly  arranging  a  bit  of 
lace  and  ribbon  at  her  aunt's  throat.  "  Now  come. 
Breakfast's  all  ready.  Just  you  wait  till  you  see  what 
I've  got  for  you." 

Aunt  Polly,  however,  was  not  to  be  diverted,  even 
by  corn  muffins,  this  morning.  Nothing  was  right, 
nothing  was  even  endurable,  as  she  felt;  and  Polly- 
anna's  patience  was  sorely  taxed  before  the  meal  was 
over.  To  make  matters  worse,  the  roof  over  the  east 
attic  window  was  found  to  be  leaking,  and  an  un 
pleasant  letter  came  in  the  mail.  Pollyanna,  true  to 
her  creed,  laughingly  declared  that,  for  her  part,  she 
was  glad  they  had  a  roof  —  to  leak ;  and  that,  as  for 
the  letter,  she'd  been  expecting  it  for  a  week,  any 
way,  and  she  was  actually  glad  she  wouldn't  have  to 
worry  any  more  for  fear  it  would  come.  It  couldn't 
come  now,  because  it  had  come ;  and  'twas  over  with. 

All  this,  together  with  sundry  other  hindrances  and 
annoyances,  delayed  the  usual  morning  work  until  far 
into  the  afternoon  —  something  that  was  always  par 
ticularly  displeasing  to  methodical  Aunt  Polly,  who 
ordered  her  own  life,  preferably,  by  the  tick  of  the 
clock. 

"  But  it's  half-past  three,  Pollyanna,  already !  Did 
you  know  it?  "  she  fretted  at  last.  "  And  you  haven't 
made  the  beds  yet." 

"  No,  dearie,  but  I  will.    Don't  worry." 

"  But,  did  you  hear  what  I  said  ?  Look  at  the 
clock,  child.  It's  after  three  o'clock  I  " 


264  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  So  'tis,  but  never  mind,  Aunt  Polly.  We  can  be 
glad  'tisn't  after  four." 

Aunt  Polly  sniffed  her  disdain. 

"  I  suppose  you  can,"  she  observed  tartly. 

Pollyanna  laughed. 

"  Well,  you  see,  auntie,  clocks  are  accommodating 
things,  when  you  stop  to  think  about  it.  I  found  that 
out  long  ago  at  the  Sanatorium.  When  I  was  doing 
something  that  I  liked,  and  I  didn't  want  the  time  to 
go  fast,  I'd  just  look  at  the  hour  hand,  and  I'd  feel 
as  if  I  had  lots  of  time  —  it  went  so  slow.  Then, 
other  days,  when  I  had  to  keep  something  that  hurt 
on  for  an  hour,  maybe,  I'd  watch  the  little  second 
hand ;  and  you  see  then  I  felt  as  if  Old  Time  was  just 
humping  himself  to  help  me  out  by  going  as  fast  as 
ever  he  could.  Now  I'm  watching  the  hour  hand 
to-day,  'cause  I  don't  want  Time  to  go  fast.  See?" 
she  twinkled  mischievously,  as  she  hurried  from  the 
room,  before  Aunt  Polly  had  time  to  answer. 

It  was  certainly  a  hard  day,  and  by  night  Pollyanna 
looked  pale  and  worn  out.  This,  too,  was  a  source 
of  worriment  to  Aunt  Polly. 

"  Dear  me,  child,  you  look  tired  to  death !  "  she 
fumed.  "  What  we're  going  to  do  I  don't  know.  I 
suppose  you'll  be  sick  next !  " 

"  Nonsense,  auntie  f  I'm  not  sick  a  bit,"  declared 
Pollyanna,  dropping  herself  with  a  sigh  on  to  the 
couch.  "  But  I  am  tired.  My !  how  good  this  couch 
feels!  I'm  glad  I'm  tired,  after  all  —  it's  so  nice  to 
rest." 

Aunt  Polly  turned  with  an  impatient  gesture. 


The  Day  Pollyanna  Did  Not  Play    265 

"Glad  —  glad  —  glad!  Of  course  you're  glad, 
Pollyanna.  You're  always  glad  for  everything.  I 
never  saw  such  a  girl.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  it's  the 
game,"  she  went  on,  in  answer  to  the  look  that  came 
to  Pollyanna's  face.  "  And  it's  a  very  good  game, 
too ;  but  I  think  you  carry  it  altogether  too  far.  This 
eternal  doctrine  of  *  it  might  be  worse  '  has  got  on  my 
nerves,  Pollyanna.  Honestly,  it  would  be  a  real  relief 
if  you  wouldn't  be  glad  for  something,  sometime !  " 

"  Why,  auntie ! "  Pollyanna  pulled  herself  half 
erect. 

"  Well,  it  would.     You  just  try  it  sometime,  and 


see." 


"  But,  auntie,  I  —  "  Pollyanna  stopped  and  eyed 
her  aunt  reflectively.  An  odd  look  came  to  her  eyes; 
a  slow  smile  curved  her  lips.  Mrs.  Chilton,  who  had 
turned  back  to  her  work,  paid  no  heed;  and,  after  a 
minute,  Pollyanna  lay  back  on  the  couch  without 
finishing  her  sentence,  the  curious  smile  still  on  her 
lips. 

It  was  raining  again  when  Pollyanna  got  up  the 
next  morning,  and  a  northeast  wind  was  still  whistling 
down  the  chimney.  Pollyanna  at  the  window  drew 
an  involuntary  sigh;  but  almost  at  once  her  face 
changed. 

"  Oh,  well,  I'm  glad  —  "  She  clapped  her  hands 
to  her  lips.  "  Dear  me,"  she  chuckled  softly,  her 
eyes  dancing,  "I  shall  forget  —  I  know  I  shall;  and 
that'll  spoil  it  all!  I  must  just  remember  not  to  be 
glad  for  anything  —  not  anything  to-day." 

Pollyanna  did  not  make  corn  muffins  that  morning. 


266  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

She  started  the  breakfast,  then  went  to  her  aunt's 
room. 

Mrs.  Chilton  was  still  in  bed. 

"I  see  it  rains,  as  usual/'  she  observed,  by  way  of 
greeting. 

"  Yes,  it's  horrid  —  perfectly  horrid,"  scolded  Pol 
lyanna.  "  It's  rained  'most  every  day  this  week,  too. 
I  hate  such  weather." 

Aunt  Polly  turned  with  a  faint  surprise  in  her  eyes ; 
but  Pollyanna  was  looking  the  other  way. 

"  Are  you  going  to  get  up  now  ?  "  she  asked  a  little 
wearily. 

"  Why,  y-yes,"  murmured  Aunt  Polly,  still  with 
that  faint  surprise  in  her  eyes.  "  What's  the  matter, 
Pollyanna?  Are  you  especially  tired?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  tired  this  morning.  I  didn't  sleep  well, 
either.  I  hate  not  to  sleep.  Things  always  plague  so 
in  the  night,  when  you  wake  up." 

"I  guess  I  know  that,"  fretted  Aunt  Polly.  "I 
didn't  sleep  a  wink  after  two  o'clock  myself.  And 
there's  that  roof!  How  are  we  going  to  have  it 
fixed,  pray,  if  it  never  stops  raining?  Have  you  been 
up  to  empty  the  pans  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  —  and  took  up  some  more.  There's  a 
new  leak  now,  further  over." 

"  A  new  one  I    Why,  it'll  all  be  leaking  yet !  " 

Pollyanna  opened  her  lips.  She  had  almost  said, 
!<  Well,  we  can  be  glad  to  have  it  fixed  all  at  once, 
then,"  when  she  suddenly  remembered,  and  substi 
tuted,  in  a  tired  voice : 

"  Very  likely  it  will,  auntie.     It  looks  like  it  now, 


The  Day  Pollyanna  Did  Not  Play     267 

fast  enough.  Anyway,  it's  made  fuss  enough  for  a 
whole  roof  already,  and  I'm  sick  of  it!  "  With  which 
statement,  Pollyanna,  her  face  carefully  averted, 
turned  and  trailed  listlessly  out  of  the  room. 

"  It's  so  funny  and  so  —  so  hard,  I'm  afraid  I'm 
making  a  mess  of  it,"  she  whispered  to  herself  anx 
iously,  as  she  hurried  down-stairs  to  the  kitchen. 

Behind  her,  Aunt  Polly,  in  the  bedroom,  gazed  after 
her  with  eyes  that  were  again  faintly  puzzled. 

Aunt  Polly  had  occasion  a  good  many  times  before 
six  o'clock  that  night  to  gaze  at  Pollyanna  with  sur 
prised  and  questioning  eyes.  Nothing  was  right  with 
Pollyanna.  The  fire  would  not  burn,  the  wind  blew 
one  particular  blind  loose  three  times,  and  still  a  third 
leak  was  discovered  in  the  roof.  The  mail  brought  to 
Pollyanna  a  letter  that  made  her  cry  (though  no 
amount  of  questioning  on  Aunt  Polly's  part  would 
persuade  her  to  tell  why).  Even  the  dinner  went 
wrong,  and  innumerable  things  happened  in  the  after 
noon  to  call  out  fretful,  discouraged  remarks. 

Not  until  the  day  was  more  than  half  gone  did  a 
look  of  shrewd  suspicion  suddenly  fight  for  supremacy 
with  the  puzzled  questioning  in  Aunt  Polly's  eyes.  If 
Pollyanna  saw  this  she  made  no  sign.  Certainly  there 
was  no  abatement  in  her  fretfulness  and  discontent. 
Long  before  six  o'clock,  however,  the  suspicion  in 
Aunt  Polly's  eyes  became  conviction,  and  drove  to 
ignominious  defeat  the  puzzled  questioning.  But,  curi 
ously  enough  then,  a  new  look  came  to  take  its  place, 
a  look  that  was  actually  a  twinkle  of  amusement. 

At  last,  after  a  particularly  doleful  complaint  on 


268  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Pollyanna's  part,  Aunt  Polly  threw  up  her  hands  with 
a  gesture  of  half-laughing  despair. 

"That'll  do,  that'll  do,  child!  I'll  give  up.  I'll 
confess  myself  beaten  at  my  own  game.  You  can  be 
—  glad  for  that,  if  you  like/'  she  finished  with  a  grim 
smile. 

"  I  know,  auntie,  but  you  said  — "  began  Polly 
anna  demurely. 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  I  never  will  again/'  interrupted 
Aunt  Polly,  with  emphasis.  "  Mercy,  what  a  day  this 
has  been!  I  never  want  to  live  through  another  like 
it."  She  hesitated,  flushed  a  little,  then  went  on  with 
evident  difficulty :  "  Furthermore,  I  —  I  want  you  to 
know  that  —  that  I  understand  I  haven't  played  the 
game  myself  —  very  well,  lately;  but,  after  this,  I'm 
going  to  —  to  try —  Where's  my  handkerchief?" 
she  finished  sharply,  fumbling  in  the  folds  of  her  dress. 

Pollyanna  sprang  to  her  feet  and  crossed  instantly 
to  her  aunt's  side. 

"  Oh,  but  Aunt  Polly,  I  didn't  mean  -  It  was  just 
a  —  a  joke,"  she  quavered  in  quick  distress.  "  I  never 
thought  of  your  taking  it  that  way." 

"Of  course  you  didn't,"  snapped  Aunt  Polly,  with 
all  the  asperity  of  a  stern,  repressed  woman  who  ab 
hors  scenes  and  sentiment,  and  who  is  mortally  afraid 
she  will  show  that  her  heart  has  been  touched. 
"  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  you  didn't  mean  it  that 
way?  Do  you  think,  if  I  thought  you  had  been  trying 
to  teach  me  a  lesson  that  I'd  —  I'd  —  "  But  Polly- 
anna's  strong  young  arms  had  her  in  a  close  embrace, 
and  she  could  not  finish  the  sentence. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

JIMMY    AND   JAMIE 

POLLYANNA  was  not  the  only  one  that  was  finding 
that  winter  a  hard  one.  In  Boston  Jimmy  Pendleton, 
in  spite  of  his  strenuous  efforts  to  occupy  his  time 
and  thoughts,  was  discovering  that  nothing  quite 
erased  from  his  vision  a  certain  pair  of  laughing  blue 
eyes,  and  nothing  quite  obliterated  from  his  memory  a 
certain  well-loved,  merry  voice. 

Jimmy  told  himself  that  if  it  were  not  for  Mrs. 
Carew,  and  the  fact  that  he  could  be  of  some  use  to 
her,  life  would  not  be  worth  the  living.  Even  at  Mrs. 
Carew's  it  was  not  all  joy,  for  always  there  was  Jamie ; 
and  Jamie  brought  thoughts  of  Pollyanna  —  unhappy 
thoughts. 

Being  thoroughly  convinced  that  Jamie  and  Polly 
anna  cared  for  each  other,  and  also  being  equally  con 
vinced  that  he  himself  was  in  honor  bound  to  step  one 
side  and  give  the  handicapped  Jamie  full  right  of  way, 
it  never  occurred  to  him  to  question  further.  Of  Pol 
lyanna  he  did  not  like  to  talk  or  to  hear.  He  knew 
that  both  Jamie  and  Mrs.  Carew  heard  from  her ;  and 
when  they  spoke  of  her,  he  forced  himself  to  listen, 
in  spite  of  his  heartache.  But  he  always  changed  the 
subject  as  soon  as  possible,  and  he  limited  his  own 
letters  to  her  to  the  briefest  and  most  infrequent 

269 


270  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

epistles  possible.  For,  to  Jimmy,  a  Pollyanna  that 
was  not  his  was  nothing  but  a  source  of  pain  and 
wretchedness;  and  he  had  been  so  glad  when  the 
time  came  for  him  to  leave  Beldingsville  and  take  up 
his  studies  again  in  Boston :  to  be  so  near  Pollyanna, 
and  yet  so  far  from  her,  he  had  found  to  be  nothing 
but  torture. 

In  Boston,  with  all  the  feverishness  of  a  restless 
mind  that  seeks  distraction  from  itself,  he  had  thrown 
himself  into  the  carrying  out  of  Mrs.  Carew's  plans 
for  her  beloved  working  girls,  and  such  time  as  could 
be  spared  from  his  own  duties  he  had  devoted  to  this 
work,  much  to  Mrs.  Carew's  delight  and  gratitude. 

And  so  for  Jimmy  the  winter  had  passed  and  spring 
had  come  —  a  joyous,  blossoming  spring  full  of  soft 
breezes,  gentle  showers,  and  tender  green  buds  ex 
panding  into  riotous  bloom  and  fragrance.  To  Jimmy, 
however,  it  was  anything  but  a  joyous  spring,  for  in 
his  heart  was  still  nothing  but  a  gloomy  winter  of 
discontent. 

"If  only  they'd  settle  things  and  announce  the  en 
gagement,  once  for  all,"  murmured  Jimmy  to  himself, 
more  and  more  frequently  these  days.  "If  only  I 
could  know  something  for  sure,  I  think  I  could  stand 
it  better !  " 

Then  one  day  late  in  April,  he  had  his  wish  —  a 
part  of  it :  he  learned  "  something  for  sure/' 

It  was  ten  o'clock  on  a  Saturday  morning,  and 
Mary,  at  Mrs.  Carew's,  had  ushered  him  into  the 
music-room  with  a  well-trained :  "  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Carew 
you're  here,  sir.  She's  expecting  you,  I  think." 


Jimmy  and  Jamie  271 

In  the  music-room  Jimmy  had  found  himself 
brought  to  a  dismayed  halt  by  the  sight  of  Jamie  at 
the  piano,  his  arms  outflung  upon  the  rack,  and  his 
head  bowed  upon  them.  Pendleton  had  half  turned 
to  beat  a  soft  retreat  when  the  man  at  the  piano  lifted 
his  head,  bringing  into  view  two  flushed  cheeks  and 
a  pair  of  fever-bright  eyes. 

"  Why,  Carew,"  stammered  Pendleton,  aghast, 
"  has  anything  —  er  —  happened  ?  " 

"  Happened !  Happened !  "  ejaculated  the  lame 
youth,  flinging  out  both  his  hands,  in  each  of  which, 
as  Pendleton  now  saw,  was  an  open  letter.  "  Every 
thing  has  happened !  Wouldn't  you  think  it  had  if  all 
your  life  you'd  been  in  prison,  and  suddenly  you  saw 
the  gates  flung  wide  open?  Wouldn't  you  think  it 
had  if  all  in  a  minute  you  could  ask  the  girl  you  loved 
to  be  your  wife?  Wouldn't  you  think  it  had  if  — 
But,  listen!  You  think  I'm  crazy,  but  I'm  not. 
Though  maybe  I  am,  after  all,  crazy  with  joy.  I'd 
like  to  tell  you.  May  I  ?  I've  got  to  tell  somebody !  " 

Pendleton  lifted  his  head.  It  was  as  if,  uncon 
sciously,  he  was  bracing  himself  for  a  blow.  He  had 
grown  a  little  white;  but  his  voice  was  quite  steady 
when  he  answered. 

"  Sure  you  may,  old  fellow.  I'd  be  —  glad  to  hear 
it." 

Carew,  however,  had  scarcely  waited  for  assent. 
He  was  rushing  on,  still  a  bit  incoherently. 

"  It's  not  much  to  you,  of  course.  You  have  two 
feet  and  your  freedom.  You  have  your  ambitions 
and  your  bridges.  But  I  —  to  me  it's  everything.  It's 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


a  chance  to  live  a  man's  life  and  do  a  man's  work,  per 
haps  —  even  if  it  isn't  dams  and  bridges.  It's  some 
thing!  —  and  it's  something  I've  proved  now  I  can 
do!  Listen.  In  that  letter  there  is  the  announcement 
that  a  little  story  of  mine  has  won  the  first  prize  — 
$3,000,  in  a  contest.  In  that  other  letter  there,  a  big 
publishing  house  accepts  with  flattering  enthusiasm 
my  first  book  manuscript  for  publication.  And  they 
both  came  to-day  —  this  morning.  Do  you  wonder  I 
am  crazy  glad  ?  " 

"  No  !  No,  indeed  !  I  congratulate  you,  Carew, 
with  all  my  heart,"  cried  Jimmy,  warmly. 

"  Thank  you  —  and  you  may  congratulate  me. 
Think  what  it  means  to  me.  Think  what  it  means  if, 
by  and  by,  I  can  be  independent,  like  a  man.  Think 
what  it  means  if  I  can,  some  day,  make  Mrs.  Carew 
proud  and  glad  that  she  gave  the  crippled  lad  a  place 
in  her  home  and  heart.  Think  what  it  means  for  me 
to  be  able  to  tell  the  girl  I  love  that  I  do  love  her." 

'  Yes  —  yes,  indeed,  old  boy!  "  Jimmy  spoke  firmly, 
though  he  had  grown  very  white  now. 

"Of  course,  maybe  I  ought  not  to  do  that  last,  even 
now,"  resumed  Jamie,  a  swift  cloud  shadowing  the 
shining  brightness  of  his  countenance.  "  I'm  still  tied 
to  —  these."  He  tapped  the  crutches  by  his  side.  "  I 
can't  forget,  of  course,  that  day  in  the  woods  last 
summer,  when  I  saw  Pollyanna-  I  realize  that  al 
ways  I'll  have  to  run  the  chance  of  seeing  the  girl  I 
love  in  danger,  and  not  being  able  to  rescue  her." 

"  Oh,  but  Carew  —  "  began  the  other  huskily. 

Carew  lifted  a  peremptory  hand. 


Jimmy  and  Jamie  273 

"  I  know  what  you'd  say.  But  don't  say  it.  You 
can't  understand.  You  aren't  tied  to  two  sticks.  You 
did  the  rescuing,  not  I.  It  came  to  me  then  how  it 
would  be,  always,  with  me  and  —  Sadie.  I'd  have  to 
stand  aside  and  see  others  —  " 

"  Sadie ! "  cut  in  Jimmy,  sharply. 

"  Yes ;  Sadie  Dean.  You  act  surprised.  Didn't 
you  know  ?  Haven't  you  suspected  —  how  I  felt 
toward  Sadie?"  cried  Jamie.  "Have  I  kept  it  so 
well  to  myself,  then?  I  tried  to,  but  —  "  He  finished 
with  a  faint  smile  and  a  half-despairing  gesture. 

"  Well,  you  certainly  kept  it  all  right,  old  fellow  — 
from  me,  anyhow,"  cried  Jimmy,  gayly.  The  color 
had  come  back  to  Jimmy's  face  in  a  rich  flood,  and 
his  eyes  had  grown  suddenly  very  bright  indeed.  "  So 
it's  Sadie  Dean.  Good!  I  congratulate  you  again, 
I  do,  I  do,  as  Nancy  says."  Jimmy  was  quite  bab 
bling  with  joy  and  excitement  now,  so  great  and  won 
derful  had  been  the  reaction  within  him  at  the  discov 
ery  that  it  was  Sadie,  not  Pollyanna,  whom  Jamie 
loved.  Jamie  flushed  and  shook  his  head  a  bit  sadly. 

"  No  congratulations  —  yet.  You  see,  I  haven't 
spoken  to  —  her.  But  I  think  she  must  know.  I 
supposed  everybody  knew.  Pray,  whom  did  you 
think  it  was,  if  not  —  Sadie?  " 

Jimmy  hesitated.  Then,  a  little  precipitately,  he  let 
it  out. 

"Why,  I'd  thought  of  — Pollyanna." 

Jamie  smiled  and  pursed  his  lips. 

"  Pollyanna's  a  charming  girl,  and  I  love  her  — * 
but  not  that  way,  any  more  than  she  does  me.  Be- 


274  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

sides,  I  fancy  somebody  else  would  have  something  to 
say  about  that;  eh?" 

Jimmy  colored  liked  a  happy,  conscious  boy. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  he  challenged,  trying  to  make  his  voice 
properly  impersonal. 

"  Of  course !    John  Pendleton." 

"John  Pendleton!"    Jimmy  wheeled  sharply. 

"What  about  John  Pendleton?"  queried  a  new 
voice;  and  Mrs.  Carew  came  forward  with  a  smile. 

Jimmy,  around  whose  ears  for  the  second  time 
within  five  minutes  the  world  had  crashed  into  frag 
ments,  barely  collected  himself  enough  for  a  low 
word  of  greeting.  But  Jamie,  unabashed,  turned  with 
a  triumphant  air  of  assurance. 

"Nothing;  only  I  just  said  that  I  believed  John 
Pendleton  would  have  something  to  say  about  Polly- 
anna's  loving  anybody  —  but  him." 

"Pollyanna!  John  Pendleton!"  Mrs.  Carew  sat 
down  suddenly  in  the  chair  nearest  her.  If  the  two 
men  before  her  had  not  been  so  deeply  absorbed  in 
their  own  affairs  they  might  have  noticed  that  the 
smile  had  vanished  from  Mrs.  Carew's  lips,  and  that 
an  odd  look  as  of  almost  fear  had  come  to  her  eyes. 

"  Certainly,"  maintained  Jamie.  "  Were  you  both 
blind  last  summer?  Wasn't  he  with  her  a  lot?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  he  was  with  —  all  of  us,"  mur 
mured  Mrs.  Carew,  a  little  faintly. 

"  Not  as  he  was  with  Pollyanna,"  insisted  Jamie. 
"  Besides,  have  you  forgotten  that  day  when  we  were 
talking  about  John  Pendleton's  marrying,-  and  Polly 
anna  blushed  and  stammered  and  said  finally  that  he 


Jimmy  and  Jamie  275 

had  thought  of  marrying  —  once.  Well,  I  wondered 
then  if  there  wasn't  something  between  them.  Don't 
you  remember  ?  " 

"  Y-yes,  I  think  I  do  —  now  that  you  speak  of  it," 
murmured  Mrs.  Carew  again.  "  But  I  had  —  for 
gotten  it." 

"  Oh,  but  I  can  explain  that,"  cut  in  Jimmy,  wetting 
his  dry  lips.  "  John  Pendleton  did  have  a  love  affair 
once,  but  it  was  with  Pollyanna's  mother." 

"  Pollyanna's  mother ! "  exclaimed  two  voices  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes.  He  loved  her  years  ago,  but  she  did  not  care 
for  him  at  all,  I  understand.  She  had  another  lover 
—  a  minister,  and  she  married  him  instead  —  Polly 
anna's  father." 

"  Oh-h  f "  breathed  Mrs.  Carew,  leaning  forward 
suddenly  in  her  chair.  "  And  is  that  why  he's  — > 
never  married  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  avouched  Jimmy.  "  So  you  see  there's 
really  nothing  to  that  idea  at  all  —  that  he  cares  for 
Pollyanna.  It  was  her  mother." 

"  On  the  contrary  I  think  it  makes  a  whole  lot  to 
that  idea,"  declared  Jamie,  wagging  his  head  wisely. 
"  I  think  it  makes  my  case  all  the  stronger.  Listen. 
He  once  loved  the  mother.  He  couldn't  have  her. 
What  more  absolutely  natural  than  that  he  should 
love  the  daughter  now  —  and  win  her?" 

"  Oh,  Jamie,  you  incorrigible  spinner  of  tales !  "  re 
proached  Mrs.  Carew,  with  a  nervous  laugh.  "  This 
is  no  ten-penny  novel.  It's  real  life.  She's  too  young 
for  him.  He  ought  to  marry  a  woman,  not  a  girl  — 


276  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

that  is,  if  he  marries  any  one,  I  mean,"  she  stammer- 
ingly  corrected,  a  sudden  flood  of  color  in  her  face. 

"  Perhaps;  but  what  if  it  happens  to  be  a  girl  that 
he  loves?"  argued  Jamie,  stubbornly.  "And,  really, 
just  stop  to  think.  Have  we  had  a  single  letter  from 
her  that  hasn't  told  of  his  being  there?  And  you 
know  how  he's  always  talking  of  Pollyanna  in  his 
letters." 

Mrs.  Carew  got  suddenly  to  her  feet. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  murmured,  with  an  odd  little 
gesture,  as  if  throwing  something  distasteful  aside. 
"  But  — "  She  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  and  a 
moment  later  she  had  left  the  room. 

When  she  came  back  in  five  minutes  she  found, 
much  to  her  surprise,  that  Jimmy  had  gone. 

"Why,  I  thought  he  was  going  with  us  on  the 
girls'  picnic!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  So  did  I,"  frowned  Jamie.  "  But  the  first  thing 
I  knew  he  was  explaining  or  apologizing  or  something 
about  unexpectedly  having  to  leave  town,  and  he'd 
come  to  tell  you  he  couldn't  go  with  us.  Anyhow,  the 
next  thing  I  knew  he'd  gone.  You  see,"  —  Jamie's 
eyes  were  glowing  again  —  "I  don't  think  I  knew 
quite  what  he  did  say,  anyway.  I  had  something  else 
to  think  of."  And  he  jubilantly  spread  before  her  the 
two  letters  which  all  the  time  he  had  still  kept  in  his 
hands. 

"  Oh,  Jamie !  "  breathed  Mrs.  Carew,  when  she  had 
read  the  letters  through.  "  How  proud  I  am  of  you !  " 
Then  suddenly  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  the  look  of 
ineffable  joy  that  illumined  Jamie's  face. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

JIMMY   AND   JOHN 

IT  was  a  very  determined,  square- jawed  young  man 
that  alighted  at  the  Beldingsville  station  late  that  Sat 
urday  night.  And  it  was  an  even  more  determined, 
square- jawed  young  man  that,  before  ten  o'clock  the 
next  morning,  stalked  through  the  Sunday-quiet  vil 
lage  streets  and  climbed  the  hill  to  the  Harrington 
homestead.  Catching  sight  of  a  loved  and  familiar 
flaxen  coil  of  hair  on  a  well-poised  little  head  just 
disappearing  into  the  summerhouse,  the  young  man 
ignored  the  conventional  front  steps  and  doorbell, 
crossed  the  lawn,  and  strode  through  the  garden 
paths  until  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  owner  of 
the  flaxen  coil  of  hair. 

"  Jimmy !  "  gasped  Pollyanna,  falling  back  with 
startled  eyes.  "  Why,  where  did  you  —  come  from?  " 

"  Boston.  Last  night.  I  had  to  see  you,  Polly 
anna." 

"  To  —  see  —  m-me?  "  Pollyanna  was  plainly 
fencing  for  time  to  regain  her  composure.  Jimmy 
looked  so  big  and  strong  and  dear  there  in  the  door  of 
the  summerhouse  that  she  feared  her  eyes  had  been 
surprised  into  a  telltale  admiration,  if  not  more. 

"  Yes,  Pollyanna ;  I  wanted  —  that  is,  I  thought  — 
I  mean,  I  feared —  Oh,  hang  it  all,  Pollyanna,  I 

277 


278  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

can't  beat  about  the  bush  like  this.  I'll  have  to  come 
straight  to  the  point.  It's  just  this.  I  stood  aside  be 
fore,  but  I  won't  now.  It  isn't  a  case  any  longer  of 
fairness.  He  isn't  crippled  like  Jamie.  He's  got  feet 
and  hands  and  a  head  like  mine,  and  if  he  wins  he'll 
have  to  win  in  a  fair  fight.  I've  got  some  rights !  " 

Pollyanna  stared  frankly. 

"  Jimmy  Bean  Pendleton,  whatever  in  the  world  are 
you  talking  about  ?  "  she  demanded. 

The  young  man  laughed  shamefacedly. 

"  No  wonder  you  don't  know.  It  wasn't  very  lucid, 
was  it?  But  I  don't  think  I've  been  really  lucid  myself 
since  yesterday  —  when  I  found  out  from  Jamie  him 
self." 

"  Found  out  —  from  Jamie !  " 

"  Yes.  It  was  the  prize  that  started  it.  You  see, 
he'd  just  got  one,  and  —  ' 

"  Oh,  I  know  about  that,"  interrupted  Pollyanna, 
eagerly.  "  And  wasn't  it  splendid  ?  Just  think  —  the 
first  one  —  three  thousand  dollars!  I  wrote  him  a 
letter  last  night.  Why,  when  I  saw  his  name,  and 
realized  it  was  Jamie  —  our  Jamie  —  I  was  so  excited 
I  forgot  all  about  looking  for  my  name,  and  even  when 
I  couldn't  find  mine  at  all,  and  knew  that  I  hadn't  got 
any  —  I  mean,  I  was  so  excited  and  pleased  for  Jamie 
that  I  —  I  forgot  —  er  —  everything  else,"  corrected 
Pollyanna,  throwing  a  dismayed  glance  into  Jimmy's 
face,  and  feverishly  trying  to  cover  up  the  partial 
admission  she  had  made. 

Jimmy,  however,  was  too  intent  on  his  own  prob 
lem  to  notice  hers. 


Jimmy  and  John  279 

"  Yes,  yes,  'twas  fine,  of  course.  I'm  glad  he  got  it. 
But  Pollyanna,  it  was  what  he  said  afterward  that  I 
mean.  You  see,  until  then  I'd  thought  that  —  that  he 
cared  —  that  you  cared  —  for  each  other,  I  mean ; 
and  —  " 

"  You  thought  that  Jamie  and  I  cared  for  each 
other !  "  exclaimed  Pollyanna,  into  whose  face  now 
was  stealing  a  soft,  shy  color.  "  Why,  Jimmy,  it's 
Sadie  Dean.  'Twas  always  Sadie  Dean.  He  used  to 
talk  of  her  to  me  by  the  hour.  I  think  she  likes  him, 
too." 

"  Good !  I  hope  she  does ;  but,  you  see,  I  didn't 
know.  I  thought  'twas  Jamie  —  and  you.  And  I 
thought  that  because  he  was  —  was  a  cripple,  you 
'know,  that  it  wouldn't  be  fair  if  I  —  if  I  stayed  around 
and  tried  to  win  you  myself." 

Pollyanna  stooped  suddenly,  and  picked  up  a  leaf 
at  her  feet.  When  she  rose,  her  face  was  turned  quite 
away. 

"  A  fellow  can't  —  can't  feel  square,  you  know, 
running  a  race  with  a  chap  that  —  that's  handicapped 
from  the  start.  So  I  —  I  just  stayed  away  and  gave 
him  his  chance ;  though  it  'most  broke  my  heart  to  do 
it,  little  girl.  It  just  did!  Then  yesterday  morning 
I  found  out.  But  I  found  out  something  else,  too. 
Jamie  says  there  is  —  is  somebody  else  in  the  case. 
But  I  can't  stand  aside  for  him,  Pollyanna.  I  can't  — 
even  in  spite  of  all  he's  done  for  me.  John  Pendleton 
is  a  man,  and  he's  got  two  whole  feet  for  the  race. 
He's  got  to  take  his  chances.  If  you  care  for  him  — 
if  you  really  care  for  him  —  " 


280  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

But  Pollyanna  had  turned,  wild-eyed. 

"John  Pendleton!  Jimmy,  what  do  you  mean? 
What  are  you  saying  —  about  John  Pendleton  ?  " 

A  great  joy  transfigured  Jimmy's  face.  He  held  out 
both  his  hands. 

"  Then  you  don't  —  you  don't !  I  can  see  it  in  your 
eyes  that  you  don't  — care !  " 

Pollyanna  shrank  back.  She  was  white  and  trem 
bling. 

"  Jimmy,  what  do  you  mean  ?  What  do  you 
mean?  "  she  begged  piteously. 

"  I  mean  —  you  don't  care  for  Uncle  John,  that 
way.  Don't  you  understand?  Jamie  thinks  you  do 
care,  and  that  anyway  he  cares  for  you.  And  then 
I  began  to  see  it  —  that  maybe  he  did.  He's  always 
talking  about  you;  and,  of  course,  there  was  your 
mother  —  " 

Pollyanna  gave  a  low  moan  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands.  Jimmy  came  close  and  laid  a  caress 
ing  arm  about  her  shoulders;  but  again  Pollyanna 
shrank  from  him. 

"Pollyanna,  little  girl,  don't!  You'll  break  my 
heart,"  he  begged.  "  Don't  you  care  for  me  —  any? 
Is  it  that,  and  you  don't  want  to  tell  me  ?  " 

She  dropped  her  hands  and  faced  him.  Her  eyes 
had  the  hunted  look  of  some  wild  thing  at  bay. 

"  Jimmy,  do  you  think  —  he  cares  for  me  —  that 
way?  "  she  entreated,  just  above  a  whisper. 

Jimmy  gave  his  head  an  impatient  shake. 

"  Never  mind  that,  Pollyanna,  —  now.  I  don't 
know,  of  course.  How  should  I  ?  But,  dearest,  that 


Jimmy  and  John  281 

isn't  the  question.  It's  you.  If  you  don't  care  for 
him,  and  if  you'll  only  give  me  a  chance  —  half  a 
chance  to  let  me  make  you  care  for  me  — "  He 
caught  her  hand,  and  tried  to  draw  her  to  him. 

"  No,  no,  Jimmy,  I  mustn't !  I  can't !  "  With  both 
her  little  palms  she  pushed  him  from  her. 

"  Pollyanna,  you  don't  mean  you  do  care  for  him?" 
Jimmy's  face  whitened. 

"No;  no,  indeed  —  not  that  way/'  faltered  Polly 
anna.  "  But  —  don't  you  see  ?  —  if  he  cares  for  me, 
I'll  have  to  —  to  learn  to,  someway." 

"Pollyanna!" 

"  Don't!    Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  Jimmy! " 

"  You  mean  you'd  marry  him,  Pollyanna  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  —  I  mean  —  why  —  er  —  y-yes,  I  sup 
pose  so,"  she  admitted  faintly. 

"  Pollyanna,  you  wouldn't !  You  couldn't !  Polly 
anna,  you  —  you're  breaking  my  heart." 

Pollyanna  gave  a  low  sob.  Her  face  was  in  her 
hands  again.  For  a  moment  she  sobbed  on,  chokingly ; 
then,  with  a  tragic  gesture,  she  lifted  her  head  and 
looked  straight  into  Jimmy's  anguished,  reproachful 
eyes. 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  she  chattered  frenziedly. 
"  I'm  breaking  mine,  too.  But  I'll  have  to  do  it.  I'd 
break  your  heart,  I'd  break  mine  —  but  I'd  never 
break  his!" 

Jimmy  raised  his  head.  His  eyes  flashed  a  sudden 
fire.  His  whole  appearance  underwent  a  swift  and 
marvelous  change.  With  a  tender,  triumphant  cry  he 
swept  Pollyanna  into  his  arms  and  held  her  close. 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


"  Now  I  know  you  care  for  me!  "  he  breathed  low 
in  her  ear.  "  You  said  it  was  breaking  ycfur  heart, 
too.  Do  you  think  I'll  give  you  up  now  to  any  man 
on  earth?  Ah,  dear,  you  little  understand  a  love  like 
mine  if  you  think  I'd  give  you  up  now.  Pollyanna, 
say  you  love  me  —  say  it  with  your  own  dear 
lips!" 

For  one  long  minute  Pollyanna  lay  unresisting  in 
the  fiercely  tender  embrace  that  encircled  her;  then 
with  a  sigh  that  was  half  content,  half  renunciation, 
she  began  to  draw  herself  away. 

"  Yes,  Jimmy,  I  do  love  you."  Jimmy's  arms 
tightened,  and  would  have  drawn  her  back  to  him; 
but  something  in  the  girl's  face  forbade.  "  I  love  you 
dearly.  But  I  couldn't  ever  be  happy  with  you  and 
feel  that  —  Jimmy,  don't  you  see,  dear?  I'll  have  to 
know  —  that  I'm  free,  first." 

"Nonsense,  Pollyanna!  Of  course  you're  free!" 
Jimmy's  eyes  were  mutinous  again. 

Pollyanna  shook  her  head. 

"  Not  with  this  hanging  over  me,  Jimmy.  Don't 
you  see?  It  was  mother,  long  ago,  that  broke  his 
heart  —  my  mother.  And  all  these  years  he's  lived 
a  lonely,  unloved  life  in  consequence.  If  now  he 
should  come  to  me  and  ask  me  to  make  that  up  to  him, 
I'd  have  to  do  it,  Jimmy.  I'd  have  to.  I  couldn't 
refuse!  Don't  you  see?" 

But  Jimmy  did  not  see  ;  he  could  not  see.  He  would 
not  see,  though  Pollyanna  pleaded  and  argued  long 
and  ,  tearfully.  But  Pollyanna,  too,  was  obdurate, 
though  so  sweetly  and  heartbrokenly  obdurate  that 


Jimmy  and  John  283 

Jimmy,  in  spite  of  his  pain  and  anger,  felt  almost  like 
turning  comforter. 

"Jimmy,  dear,"  said  Pollyanna,  at  last,  "  we'll  have 
to  wait.  That's  all  I  can  say  now.  I  hope  he  doesn't 
care ;  and  I  —  I  don't  believe  he  does  care.  But  I've 
got  to  know.  I've  got  to  be  sure.  We'll  just  have  to 
wait,  a  little,  till  we  find  out,  Jimmy  —  till  we  find 
out!" 

And  to  this  plan  Jimmy  had  to  submit,  though  it 
was  with  a  most  rebellious  heart. 

"  All  right,  little  girl,  it'll  have  to  be  as  you  say,  of 
course,"  he  despaired.  "  But,  surely,  never  before 
was  a  man  kept  waiting  for  his  answer  till  the  girl  he 
loved,  and  who  loved  him,  found  out  if  the  other  man 
wanted  her !  " 

"  I  know ;  but,  you  see,  dear,  never  before  had  the 
other  man  wanted  her  mother,"  sighed  Pollyanna,  her 
face  puckered  into  an  anxious  frown. 

"  Very  well,  I'll  go  back  to  Boston,  of  course,"  ac 
ceded  Jimmy  reluctantly.  "  But  you  needn't  think 
I've  given  up  —  because  I  haven't.  Nor  I  sha'n't  give 
up,  just  so  long  as  I  know  you  really  care  for  me, 
my  little  sweetheart,"  he  finished,  with  a  look  that 
sent  her  palpitatingly  into  retreat,  just  out  of  reach  of 
his  arms. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

JOHN  PENDLETON  TURNS  THE  KEY 

JIMMY  went  back  to  Boston  that  night  in  a  state 
that  was  a  most  tantalizing  commingling  of  happiness, 
hope,  exasperation,  and  rebellion.  Behind  him  he  left 
a  girl  who  was  in  a  scarcely  less  enviable  frame  of 
mind;  for  Pollyanna,  tremulously  happy  in  the  won 
drous  thought  of  Jimmy's  love  for  her,  was  yet  so 
despairingly  terrified  at  the  thought  of  the  possible 
love  of  John  Pendleton,  that  there  was  not  a  thrill  of 
joy  that  did  not  carry  its  pang  of  fear. 

Fortunately  for  all  concerned,  however,  this  state 
of  affairs  was  not  of  long  duration ;  for,  as  it  chanced, 
John  Pendleton,  in  whose  unwitting  hands  lay  the  key 
to  the  situation,  in  less  than  a  week  after  Jimmy's 
hurried  visit,  turned  that  key  in  the  lock,  and  opened 
the  door  of  doubt. 

It  was  late  Thursday  afternoon  that  John  Pendleton 
called  to  see  Pollyanna.  As  it  happened,  he,  like 
Jimmy,  saw  Pollyanna  in  the  garden  and  came  straight 
toward  her. 

Pollyanna,  looking  into  his  face,  felt  a  sudden  sink 
ing  of  the  heart. 

"  It's  come  —  it's  come !  "  she  shivered ;  and  invol 
untarily  she  turned  as  if  to  flee. 

284 


INVOLUNTARILY    SHE   TURNED    AS    IF    TO    FLEE. 


John  Pendleton  Turns  the  Key      285 

"  Oh,  Pollyanna,  wait  a  minute,  please,"  called  the 
man  hastening  his  steps.  "  You're  just  the  one  I 
wanted  to  see.  Come,  can't  we  go  in  here?"  he  sug 
gested,  turning  toward  the  summerhouse.  "  I  want 
to  speak  to  you  about —  something." 

"  Why,  y-yes,  of  course,"  stammered  Pollyanna, 
with  forced  gayety.  Pollyanna  knew  that  she  was 
blushing,  and  she  particularly  wished  not  to  blush  just 
then.  It  did  not  help  matters  any,  either,  that  he 
should  have  elected  to  go  into  the  summerhouse  for 
his  talk.  The  summerhouse  now,  to  Pollyanna,  was 
sacred  to  certain  dear  memories  of  Jimmy.  "  And 
to  think  it  should  be  here  —  here!"  she  was  shudder 
ing  frantically.  But  aloud  she  said,  still  gayly,  "  It's 
a  lovely  evening,  isn't  it  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  John  Pendleton  strode  into 
the  summerhouse  and  dropped  himself  into  a  rustic 
chair  without  even  waiting  for  Pollyanna  to  seat  her 
self  —  a  most  unusual  proceeding  on  the  part  of  John 
Pendleton.  Pollyanna,  stealing  a  nervous  glance  at 
his  face  found  it  so  startlingly  like  the  old  stern,  sour 
visage  of  her  childhood's  remembrance,  that  she  ut 
tered  an  involuntary  exclamation. 

Still  John  Pendleton  paid  no  heed.  Still  moodily 
he  sat  wrapped  in  thought.  At  last,  however,  he  lifted 
his  head  and  gazed  somberly  into  Pollyanna's  startled 
eyes. 

"  Pollyanna." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Pendleton." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  sort  of  man  I  was  when 
you  first  knew  me,  years  ago?" 


286  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"Why,  y-yes,  I  think  so." 

"  Delightfully  agreeable  specimen  of  humanity, 
wasn't  I?" 

In  spite  of  her  perturbation  Pollyanna  smiled 
faintly. 

"I  —  /  liked  you,  sir."  Not  until  the  words  were 
uttered  did  Pollyanna  realize  just  how  they  would 
sound.  She  strove  then,  frantically,  to  recall  or 
modify  them  and  had  almost  added  a  "  that  is,  I  mean, 
I  liked  you  then!"  when  she  stopped  just  in  time: 
certainly  that  would  not  have  helped  matters  any !  She 
listened  then,  fearfully,  for  John  Pendleton's  next 
words.  They  came  almost  at  once. 

"  I  know  you  did  —  bless  your  little  heart !  And 
it  was  that  that  was  the  saving  of  me.  I  wonder, 
Pollyanna,  if  I  could  ever  make  you  realize  just  what 
your  childish  trust  and  liking  did  for  me." 

Pollyanna  stammered  a  confused  protest;  but  he 
brushed  it  smilingly  aside. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was !  It  was  you,  and  no  one  else.  I 
wonder  if  you  remember  another  thing,  too,"  resumed 
the  man,  after  a  moment's  silence,  during  which 
Pollyanna  looked  furtively,  but  longingly  toward  the 
door.  "  I  wonder  if  you  remember  my  telling  you 
once  that  nothing  but  a  woman's  hand  and  heart,  or  a 
child's  presence  could  make  a  home." 

Pollyanna  felt  the  blood  rush  to  her  face. 

"  Y-yes,  n-no  —  I  mean,  yes,  I  remember  it,"  she 
stuttered ;  "  but  I  —  I  don't  think  it's  always  so  now. 
I  mean  —  that  is,  I'm  sure  your  home  now  is  —  is 
lovely  just  as  'tis,  and  —  " 


John  Pendleton  Turns  the  Key      287 

"  But  it's  my  home  I'm  talking  about,  child,"  in 
terrupted  the  man,  impatiently.  "  Pollyanna,  you 
know  the  kind  of  home  I  once  hoped  to  have,  and  how 
those  hopes  were  dashed  to  the  ground.  Don't  think, 
dear,  I'm  blaming  your  mother.  I'm  not.  She  but 
obeyed  her  heart,  which  was  right;  and  she  made  the 
wiser  choice,  anyway,  as  was  proved  by  the  dreary 
waste  I've  made  of  life  because  of  that  disappoint 
ment.  After  all,  Pollyanna,  isn't  it  strange,"  added 
John  Pendleton,  his  voice  growing  tender,  "  that  it 
should  be  the  little  hand  of  her  own  daughter  that  led 
me  into  the  path  of  happiness,  at  last?" 

Pollyanna  moistened  her  lips  convulsively. 

"Oh,  but  Mr.  Pendleton,  I  — I- 

Once  again  the  man  brushed  aside  her  protests  with 
a  smiling  gesture. 

"  Yes,  it  was,  Pollyanna,  your  little  hand  in  the  long 
ago  —  you,  and  your  glad  game." 

"  Oh-h ! "  Pollyanna  relaxed  visibly  in  her  seat. 
The  terror  in  her  eyes  began  slowly  to  recede. 

"  And  so  all  these  years  I've  been  gradually  grow 
ing  into  a  different  man,  Pollyanna.  But  there's  one 
thing  I  haven't  changed  in,  my  dear."  He  paused, 
looked  away,  then  turned  gravely  tender  eyes  back  to 
her  face.  "  I  still  think  it  takes  a  woman's  hand  and 
heart  or  a  child's  presence  to  make  a  home." 

"Yes;  b-but  you've  g-got  the  child's  presence," 
plunged  in  Pollyanna,  the  terror  coming  back  to  her 
eyes.  "  There's  Jimmy,  you  know." 

The  man  gave  an  amused  laugh. 

"  I  know ;   but  —  I  don't  think  even  you  would  say 


288  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

that  Jimmy  is  —  is  exactly  a  child's  presence  any 
longer/'  he  remarked. 

"  N-no,  of  course  not/' 

"  Besides  —  Pollyanna,  I've  made  up  my  mind. 
I've  got  to  have  the  woman's  hand  and  heart."  His 
voice  dropped,  and  trembled  a  little. 

"  Oh-h,  have  you?"  Pollyanna's  fingers  met  and 
clutched  each  other  in  a  spasmodic  clasp.  John  Pen- 
dleton,  however,  seemed  neither  to  hear  nor  see.  He 
had  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  was  nervously  pacing  up 
and  down  the  little  house. 

"  Pollyanna,"  he  stopped  and  faced  her;  "  if  —  if 
you  were  I,  and  were  going  to  ask  the  woman  you 
loved  to  come  and  make  your  old  gray  pile  of  stone 
a  home,  how  would  you  go  to  work  to  do  it?  " 

Pollyanna  half  started  from  her  chair.  Her  eyes 
sought  the  door,  this  time  openly,  longingly. 

"  Oh,  but,  Mr.  Pendleton,  I  wouldn't  do  it  at  all, 
at  all,"  she  stammered,  a  little  wildly.  "I'm  sure 
you'd  be  —  much  happier  as  —  as  you  are." 

The  man  stared  in  puzzled  surprise,  then  laughed 
grimly. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Pollyanna,  is  it  —  quite  so  bad 
as  that?"  he  asked. 

"  B-bad?"  Pollyanna  had  the  appearance  of  being 
poised  for  flight. 

"  Yes.  Is  that  just  your  way  of  trying  to  soften 
the  blow  of  saying  that  you  don't  think  she'd  have 
me,  anyway?  " 

"Oh,  n-no  — no,  indeed.  She'd  say  yes  —  she'd 
have  to  say  yes,  you  know,"  explained  Pollyanna,  with 


John  Pendleton  Turns  the  Key      289 

terrified  earnestness.  "  But  I've  been  thinking  —  I 
mean,  I  was  thinking  that  if  —  if  the  girl  didn't  love 
you,  you  really  would  be  happier  without  her;  and 
At  the  look  that  came  into  John  Pendleton's 
face,  Pollyanna  stopped  short. 

"  I  shouldn't  want  her,  if  she  didn't  love  me,  Polly 
anna." 

"  No,  I  thought  not,  too."  Pollyanna  began  to  look 
a  little  less  distracted. 

"  Besides,  she  doesn't  happen  to  be  a  girl,"  went  on 
John  Pendleton.  "  She's  a  mature  woman  who,  pre 
sumedly,  would  know  her  own  mind."  The  man's 
voice  was  grave  and  slightly  reproachful. 

"  Oh-h-h !  Oh !  "  exclaimed  Pollyanna,  the  dawn 
ing  happiness  in  her  eyes  leaping  forth  in  a  flash  of 
ineffable  joy  and  relief.  "  Then  you  love  somebody 
By  an  almost  superhuman  effort  Pollyanna 
choked  off  the  "  else  "  before  it  left  her  delighted  lips. 

"  Love  somebody !  Haven't  I  just  been  telling  you 
I  did?"  laughed  John  Pendleton,  half  vexedly. 
"  What  I  want  to  know  is  —  can  she  be  made  to  love 
me?  That's  where  I  was  sort  of  —  of  counting  on 
your  help,  Pollyanna.  You  see,  she's  a  dear  friend  of 
yours." 

"Is  she?"  gurgled  Pollyanna.  "Then  she'll  just 
have  to  love  you.  We'll  make  her!  Maybe  she  does, 
anyway,  already.  Who  is  she  ?  " 

There  was  a  long  pause  before  the  answer  came. 

"  I  believe,  after  all,  Pollyanna,  I  won't  —  yes,  I 
will,  too.  It's  —  can't  you  guess?  —  Mrs.  Carew." 

"  Oh !  "  breathed   Pollyanna,   with  a   face  of  un- 


290  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

clouded  joy.     "  How  perfectly  lovely!     I'm  so  glad, 
glad,  GLAD!  " 

A  long  hour  later  Pollyanna  sent  Jimmy  a  letter. 
It  was  confused  and  incoherent  —  a  series  of  half- 
completed,  illogical,  but  shyly  joyous  sentences,  out 
of  which  Jimmy  gathered  much:  a  little  from  what 
was  written;  more  from  what  was  left  unwritten. 
After  all,  did  he  really  need  more  than  this? 

"  Oh,  Jimmy,  he  doesn't  love  me  a  bit.  It's  some 
one  else.  I  mustn't  tell  you  who  it  is  —  but  her  name 
isn't  Pollyanna." 

Jimmy  had  just  time  to  catch  the  seven  o'clock 
train  for  Beldingsville  —  and  he  caught  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

AFTER     LONG     YEARS 

POLLYANNA  was  so  happy  that  night  after  she  had 
sent  her  letter  to  Jimmy  that  she  could  not  quite  keep 
it  to  herself.  Always  before  going  to  bed  she  stepped 
into  her  aunt's  room  to  see  if  anything  were  needed. 
To-night,  after  the  usual  questions,  she  had  turned  to 
put  out  the  light  when  a  sudden  impulse  sent  her  back 
to  her  aunt's  bedside.  A  little  breathlessly  she  dropped 
on  her  knees. 

"  Aunt  Polly,  I'm  so  happy  I  just  had  to  tell  some 
one.  I  want  to  tell  you.  May  I?  " 

"Tell  me?  Tell  me  what,  child?  Of  course  you 
may  tell  me.  You  mean,  it's  good  news  —  for 
me?33 

"  Why,  yes,  dear ;  I  hope  so,"  blushed  Pollyanna. 
"  I  hope  it  will  make  you  —  glad,  a  little,  for  me,  you 
know.  Of  course  Jimmy  will  tell  you  himself  all 
properly  some  day.  But  7  wanted  to  tell  you  first." 

"Jimmy!"  Mrs.  Chilton's  face  changed  percep 
tibly. 

"Yes,  when  —  when  he  —  he  asks  you  for  me," 
stammered  Pollyanna,  with  a  radiant  flood  of  color. 
«  Oh,  I  —  I'm  so  happy,  I  had  to  tell  you !  " 

"  Asks  me  for  you !  Pollyanna !  "  Mrs.  Chilton 

291 


Pollyanna  Grows  Up 


pulled  herself  up  in  bed.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say 
there's  anything  serious  between  you  and  —  Jimmy 
Bean!" 

Pollyanna  fell  back  in  dismay. 

"  Why,  auntie,  I  thought  you  liked  Jimmy  !  " 

"  So  I  do  —  in  his  place.  But  that  place  isn't  the 
husband  of  my  niece." 

"Aunt  Polly!" 

"  Come,  come,  child,  don't  look  so  shocked.  This 
is  all  sheer  nonsense,  and  I'm  glad  I've  been  able  to 
stop  it  before  it's  gone  any  further." 

"  But,  Aunt  Polly,  it  has  gone  further,"  quavered 
Pollyanna.  "  Why,  I  —  I  already  have  learned  to 
lo  --  c-care  for  him  —  dearly." 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  unlearn  it,  Pollyanna,  for 
never,  never  will  I  give  my  consent  to  your  marrying 
Jimmy  Bean." 

"  But  —  w-why,  auntie  ?  " 

"  First  and  foremost  because  we  know  nothing 
about  him." 

"  Why,  Aunt  Polly,  we've  always  known  him,  ever 
since  I  was  a  little  girl  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  what  was  he  ?  A  rough  little  runaway 
urchin  from  an  Orphans'  Home!  We  know  nothing 
whatever  about  his  people,  and  his  pedigree." 

"  But  I'm  not  marrying  his  p-people  and  his 
p-pedigree  !  " 

With  an  impatient  groan  Aunt  Polly  fell  back  on  her 
pillow. 

"  Pollyanna,  you're  making  me  positively  ill.  My 
heart  is  going  like  a  trip  hammer.  I  sha'n't  sleep  a 


After  Long  Years  293 

wink  to-night.  Can't  you  let  this  thing  rest  till  morn 
ing?" 

Pollyanna  was  on  her  feet  instantly,  her  face  all 
contrition. 

"  Why,  yes  —  yes,  indeed;  of  course,  Aunt  Polly! 
And  to-morrow  you'll  feel  different,  I'm  sure.  I'm 
sure  you  will,"  reiterated  the  girl,  her  voice  quivering 
with  hope  again,  as  she  turned  to  extinguish  the  light. 

But  Aunt  Polly  did  not  "  feel  different "  in  the 
morning.  If  anything,  her  opposition  to  the  marriage 
was  even  more  determined.  In  vain  Pollyanna 
pleaded  and  argued.  In  vain  she  showed  how  deeply 
her  happiness  was  concerned.  Aunt  Polly  was  obdu 
rate.  She  would  have  none  of  the  idea.  She  sternly 
admonished  Pollyanna  as  to  the  possible  evils  of 
heredity,  and  warned  her  of  the  dangers  of  marrying 
into  she  knew  not  what  sort  of  family.  She  even 
appealed  at  last  to  her  sense  of  duty  and  gratitude 
toward  herself,  and  reminded  Pollyanna  of  the  long 
years  of  loving  care  that  had  been  hers  in  the  home 
of  her  aunt,  and  she  begged  her  piteously  not  to  break 
her  heart  by  this  marriage  as  had  her  mother  years 
before  by  her  marriage. 

When  Jimmy  himself,  radiant-faced  and  glowing- 
eyed,  came  at  ten  o'clock,  he  was  met  by  a  frightened, 
sob-shaken  little  Pollyanna  that  tried  ineffectually  to 
hold  him  back  with  two  trembling  hands.  With 
whitening  cheeks,  but  with  defiantly  tender  arms  that 
held  her  close,  he  demanded  an  explanation. 

"  Pollyanna,  dearest,  what  in  the  world  is  the  mean 
ing  of  this?" 


294  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  Oh,  Jimmy,  Jimmy,  why  did  you  come,  why  did 
you  come  ?  I  was  going  to  write  and  tell  you  straight 
away,"  moaned  Pollyanna. 

"  But  you  did  write  me,  dear.  I  got  it  yesterday 
afternoon,  just  in  time  to  catch  my  train." 

"  No,  no ;  —  again,  I  mean.  I  didn't  know  then 
that  I  —  I  couldn't." 

"Couldn't!  Pollyanna,"  —  his  eyes  flamed  into 
stern  wrath,  — "  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  there's 
anybody  else's  love  you  think  you've  got  to  keep  me 
waiting  for?"  he  demanded,  holding  her  at  arm's 
length. 

"  No,  no,  Jimmy !  Don't  look  at  me  like  that.  I 
can't  bear  it!  " 

"  Then  what  is  it?    What  is  it  you  can't  do?  " 

"  I  can't  —  marry  you." 

"  Pollyanna,  do  you  love  me?  " 

"Yes.    Oh,  y-yes." 

"  Then  you  shall  marry  me,"  triumphed  Jimmy, 
his  arms  enfolding  her  again. 

"  No,  no,  Jimmy,  you  don't  understand.  It's  — 
Aunt  Polly,"  struggled  Pollyanna. 

"Aunt  Polly!" 

"Yes.    She  — won't  let  me." 

"  Ho !  "  Jimmy  tossed  his  head  with  a  light  laugh. 
"We'll  fix  Aunt  Polly.  She  thinks  she's  going  to 
lose  you,  but  we'll  just  remind  her  that  she  —  she's 
going  to  gain  a  —  a  new  nephew ! "  he  finished  in 
mock  importance. 

But  Pollyanna  did  not  smile.  She  turned  her  head 
hopelessly  from  side  to  side. 


After  Long  Years  295 

"  No,  no,  Jimmy,  you  don't  understand !  She  — 
she  —  oh,  how  can  I  tell  you?  —  she  objects  to  —  to 
you  —  for  —  me" 

Jimmy's  arms  relaxed  a  little.     His  eyes  sobered. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  suppose  I  can't  blame  her  for  that. 
I'm  no  —  wonder,  of  course,"  he  admitted  con 
strainedly.  "  Still,"  —  he  turned  loving  eyes  upon  her 

—  "I'd  try  to  make  you  —  happy,  dear." 

"  Indeed  you  would !  I  know  you  would,"  pro 
tested  Pollyanna,  tearfully. 

"  Then  why  not  —  give  me  a  chance  to  try,  Polly 
anna,  even  if  she  —  doesn't  quite  approve,  at  first. 
Maybe  in  time,  after  we  were  married,  we  could  win 
her  over." 

"  Oh,  but  I  couldn't  —  I  couldn't  do  that,"  moaned 
Pollyanna,  "  after  what  she's  said.  I  couldn't  — 
without  her  consent.  You  see,  she's  done  so  much 
for  me,  and  she's  so  dependent  on  me.  She  isn't  well 
a  bit,  now,  Jimmy.  And,  really,  lately  she's  been  so 

—  so  loving,  and  she's  been  trying  so  hard  to  —  to 
play  the  game,  you  know,  in  spite  of  all  her  troubles. 
And  she  —  she  cried,  Jimmy,  and  begged  me  not  to 
break  her  heart  as  —  as  mother  did  long  ago.    And  — • 
and  Jimmy,  I  —  I  just  couldn't,  after  all  she's  done 
for  me."  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause;  then,  with  a  vivid 
red  mounting  to  her  forehead,  Pollyanna  spoke  again, 
brokenly. 

"  Jimmy,  if  you  —  if  you  could  only  tell  Aunt 
Polly  something  about  —  about  your  father,  and  your 
people,  and  —  " 


296  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Jimmy's  arms  dropped  suddenly.  He  stepped  back 
a  little.  The  color  drained  from  his  face. 

"Is  — that  — it?"  he  asked. 

'  Yes."  Pollyanna  came  nearer,  and  touched  his 
arm  timidly.  "  Don't  think  —  It  isn't  for  me, 
Jimmy.  I  don't  care.  Besides,  I  knoiv  that  your 
father  and  your  people  were  all  —  all  fine  and  noble, 
because  you  are  so  fine  and  noble.  But  she  —  Jimmy, 
don't  look  at  me  like  that !  " 

But  Jimmy,  with  a  low  moan  had  turned  quite  away 
from  her.  A  minute  later,  with  only  a  few  choking 
words,  which  she  could  not  understand,  he  had  left 
the  house. 

From  the  Harrington  homestead  Jimmy  went 
straight  home  and  sought  out  John  Pendleton.  He 
found  him  in  the  great  crimson-hung  library  where, 
some  years  before,  Pollyanna  had  looked  fearfully 
about  for  the  "  skeleton  in  John  Pendleton's  closet." 

"  Uncle  John,  do  you  remember  that  packet  father 
gave  me  ?  "  demanded  Jimmy. 

"Why,  yes.  What's  the  matter,  son?"  John 
Pendleton  had  given  a  start  of  surprise  at  sight  of 
Jimmy's  face. 

"  That  packet  has  got  to  be  opened,  sir." 

"  But  —  the  conditions !  " 

"  I  can't  help  it.  It's  got  to  be.  That's  all.  Will 
you  do  it  ?  " 

"Why,  y-yes,  my  boy,  of  course,  if  you  insist; 
but  -  "  he  paused  helplessly. 

"  Uncle  John,  as  perhaps  you  have  guessed,  I  love 


After  Long  Years  297 

Polly  anna.  I  asked  her  to  be  my  wife,  and  she  con 
sented."  The  elder  man  made  a  delighted  exclama 
tion,  but  the  other  did  not  pause,  or  change  his  sternly 
intent  expression.  "  She  says  now  she  can't  —  marry 
me.  Mrs.  Chilton  objects.  She  objects  to  me/' 

"Objects  to  you!"  John  Pendleton's  eyes  flashed 
angrily. 

'  Yes.  I  found  out  why  when  —  when  Pollyanna 
begged  if  I  couldn't  tell  her  aunt  something  about  — 
about  my  father  and  my  people." 

"  Shucks !  I  thought  Polly  Chilton  had  more  sense 
—  still,  it's  just  like  her,  after  all.  The  Harringtons 
have  always  been  inordinately  proud  of  race  and  fam 
ily,"  snapped  John  Pendleton.  "Well,  could  you?" 

ff  Could  I!  It  was  on  the  end  of  my  tongue  to  tell 
Pollyanna  that  there  couldn't  have  been  a  better  father 
than  mine  was;  then,  suddenly,  I  remembered  —  the 
packet,  and  what  it  said.  And  I  was  afraid.  I  didn't 
dare  say  a  word  till  I  knew  what  was  inside  that 
packet.  There's  something  dad  didn't  want  me  to 
know  till  I  was  thirty  years  old  —  when  I  would  be 
a  man  grown,  and  could  stand  anything.  See? 
There's  a  secret  somewhere  in  our  lives.  I've  got  to 
know  that  secret,  and  I've  got  to  know  it  now." 

"  But,  Jimmy,  lad,  don't  look  so  tragic.  It  may  be 
a  good  secret.  Perhaps  it'll  be  something  you'll  like 
to  know." 

"  Perhaps.  But  if  it  had  been,  would  he  have  been 
apt  to  keep  it  from  me  till  I  was  thirty  years  old? 
No !  Uncle  John,  it  was  something  he  was  trying  to 
save  me  from  till  I  was  old  enough  to  stand  it  and 


298  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

not  flinch.  Understand,  I'm  not  blaming  dad.  What 
ever  it  was,  it  was  something  he  couldn't  help,  I'll 
warrant.  But  what  it  was  I've  got  to  know.  Will 
you  get  it,  please?  It's  in  your  safe,  you  know." 

John  Pendleton  rose  at  once. 

"  I'll  get  it,"  he  said.  Three  minutes  later  it  lay  in 
Jimmy's  hand;  but  Jimmy  held  it  out  at  once. 

"  I  would  rather  you  read  it,  sir,  please.    Then  tell 


me." 


"  But,  Jimmy,  I  —  very  well."  With  a  decisive 
gesture  John  Pendleton  picked  up  a  paper-cutter, 
opened  the  envelope,  and  pulled  out  the  contents. 
There  was  a  package  of  several  papers  tied  together, 
and  one  folded  sheet  alone,  apparently  a  letter.  This 
John  Pendleton  opened  and  read  first.  And  as  he 
read,  Jimmy,  tense  and  breathless,  watched  his  face. 
He  saw,  therefore,  the  look  of  amazement,  joy,  and 
something  else  he  could  not  name,  that  leaped  into 
John  Pendleton's  countenance. 

"Uncle  John,  what  is  it?  What  is  it?"  he  de 
manded. 

"  Read  it  —  for  yourself,"  answered  the  man, 
thrusting  the  letter  into  Jimmy's  outstretched  hand. 
And  Jimmy  read  this ; 

"  The  enclosed  papers  are  the  legal  proof  that  my 
boy  Jimmy  is  really  James  Kent,  son  of  John  Kent, 
who  married  Doris  Wetherby,  daughter  of  William 
W^etherby  of  Boston.  There  is  also  a  letter  in  which 
I  explain  to  my  boy  why  I  have  kept  him  from  his 
mother's  family  all  these  years.  If  this  packet  is 
opened  by  him  at  thirty  years  of  age,  he  will  read  this 


After  Long  Years  299 

letter,  and  I  hope  will  forgive  a  father  who  feared 
to  lose  his  boy  entirely,  so  took  this  drastic  course  to 
keep  him  to  himself.  If  it  is  opened  by  strangers, 
because  of  his  death,  I  request  that  his  mother's  people 
in  Boston  be  notified  at  once,  and  the  inclosed  pack 
age  of  papers  be  given,  intact,  into  their  hands. 

"JOHN  KENT." 

Jimmy  was  pale  and  shaken  when  he  looked  up  to 
meet  John  Pendleton's  eyes. 

"Am  I  —  the  lost  —  Jamie?"  he  faltered. 

"  That  letter  says  you  have  documents  there  to 
prove  it,"  nodded  the  other. 

"  Mrs.  Carew's  nephew?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"But,  why  —  what  — I  can't  realize  it!"  There 
was  a  moment's  pause  before  into  Jimmy's  face 
flashed  a  new  joy.  "  Then,  surely  now  I  know  who 
I  am!  I  can  tell  —  Mrs.  Chilton  something  of  my 
people." 

"  I  should  say  you  could,"  retorted  John  Pendleton, 
dryly.  "  The  Boston  Wetherbys  can  trace  straight 
back  to  the  crusades,  and  I  don't  know  but  to  the  year 
one.  That  ought  to  satisfy  her.  As  for  your  father 
—  he  came  of  good  stock,  too,  Mrs.  Carew  told  me, 
though  he  was  rather  eccentric,  and  not  pleasing  to 
the  family,  as  you  know,  of  course." 

"  Yes.  Poor  dad !  And  what  a  life  he  must  have 
lived  with  me  all  those  years  —  always  dreading  pur 
suit.  I  can  understand  —  lots  of  things,  now,  that 
used  to  puzzle  me.  A  woman  called  me  '  Jamie/  once. 


300  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

Jove !  how  angry  he  was !  I  know  now  why  he  hur 
ried  me  away  that  night  without  even  waiting  for 
supper.  Poor  dad!  It  was  right  after  that  he  was 
taken  sick.  He  couldn't  use  his  hands  or  his  feet, 
and  very  soon  he  couldn't  talk  straight.  Something 
ailed  his  speech.  I  remember  when  he  died  he  was 
trying  to  tell  me  something  about  this  packet.  I  be 
lieve  now  he  was  telling  me  to  open  it,  and  go  to  my 
mother's  people;  but  I  thought  then  he  was  just  tell 
ing  me  to  keep  it  safe.  So  that's  what  I  promised 
him.  But  it  didn't  comfort  him  any.  It  only  seemed 
to  worry  him  more.  You  see,  I  didn't  understand. 
Poor  dad!" 

"  Suppose  we  take  a  look  at  these  papers,"  sug 
gested  John  Pendleton.  "  Besides,  there's  a  letter 
from  your  father  to  you,  I  understand.  Don't  you 
want  to  read  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course.  And  then  —  "  the  young  fellow 
laughed  shamefacedly  and  glanced  at  the  clock  —  "I 
was  wondering  just  how  soon  I  could  go  back  —  to 
Pollyanna." 

A  thoughtful  frown  came  to  John  Pendleton's  face. 
He  glanced  at  Jimmy,  hesitated,  then  spoke. 

"  I  know  you  want  to  see  Pollyanna,  lad,  and  I 
don't  blame  you ;  but  it  strikes  me  that,  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  you  should  go  first  to  —  Mrs.  Carew, 
and  take  these."  He  tapped  the  papers  before  him. 

Jimmy  drew  his  brows  together  and  pondered. 

"All  right,  sir,  I  will,"  he  agreed  resignedly. 

"  And  if  you  don't  mind,  I'd  like  to  go  with  you," 
further  suggested  John  Pendleton,  a  little  diffidently. 


After  Long  Years  301 

"I  —  I  have  a  little  matter  of  my  own  that  I'd  like 
to  see  —  your  aunt  about.  Suppose  we  go  down  to 
day  on  the  three  o'clock?" 

"  Good !  We  will,  sir.  Gorry !  And  so  I'm  Jamie ! 
I  can't  grasp  it  yet ! "  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
springing  to  his  feet,  and  restlessly  moving  about  the 
room.  "  I  wonder,  now,"  he  stopped,  and  colored 
boyishly,  "  do  you  think  —  Aunt  Ruth  —  will  mind 
—  very  much  ?  " 

John  Pendleton  shook  his  head.  A  hint  of  the  old 
somberness  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Hardly,  my  boy.  But  —  I'm  thinking  of  myself. 
How  about  it?  When  you're  her  boy,  where  am  I 
coming  in  ?  " 

"  You!  Do  you  think  anything  could  put  you  one 
side?"  scoffed  Jimmy,  fervently.  "You  needn't 
worry  about  that.  And  she  won't  mind.  She  has 
Jamie,  you  know,  and  — "  He  stopped  short,  a 
dawning  dismay  in  his  eyes.  "  By  George !  Uncle 
John,  I  forgot  —  Jamie.  This  is  going  to  be  tough 
on  —  Jamie !  " 

"Yes,  I'd  thought  of  that.  Still,  he's  legally 
adopted,  isn't  he?" 

"Oh,  yes;  it  isn't  that.  It's  the  fact  that  he  isn't 
the  real  Jamie  himself  —  and  he  with  his  two  poor 
useless  legs!  Why,  Uncle  John,  it'll  just  about  kill 
him.  I've  heard  him  talk.  I  know.  Besides,  Polly- 
anna  and  Mrs.  Carew  both  have  told  me  how  he 
feels,  how  sure  he  is,  and  how  happy  he  is.  Great 
Scott !  I  can't  take  away  from  him  this  —  But  what 
can  I  do?" 


302  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

"  I  don't  know,  my  boy.  I  don't  see  as  there's  any 
thing  you  can  do,  but  what  you  are  doing." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Jimmy  had  resumed  his 
nervous  pacing  up  and  down  the  room.  Suddenly 
he  wheeled,  his  face  alight. 

"  There  is  a  way,  and  I'll  do  it.  I  know  Mrs. 
Carew  will  agree.  We  won't  tell!  We  won't  tell 
anybody  but  Mrs.  Carew  herself,  and  —  and  Polly 
anna  and  her  aunt.  I'll  have  to  tell  them,"  he  added 
defensively. 

"  You  certainly  will,  my  boy.  As  for  the  rest  —  " 
John  Pendleton  paused  doubtfully. 

"  It's  nobody's  business." 

"  But,  remember,  you  are  making  quite  a  sacri 
fice  —  in  several  ways.  I  want  you  to  weigh  it  well." 

''  Weigh  it?  I  have  weighed  it,  and  there's  nothing 
in  it  —  with  Jamie  on  the  other  side  of  the  scales,  sir. 
I  just  couldn't  do  it.  That's  all." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  and  I  think  you're  right,"  de 
clared  John  Pendleton  heartily.  "  Furthermore,  I 
believe  Mrs.  Carew  will  agree  with  you,  particularly 
as  shell  know  now  that  the  real  Jamie  is  found  at 
last." 

:<  You  know  she's  always  said  she'd  seen  me  some 
where,"  chuckled  Jimmy.  "  Now  how  soon  does  that 
train  go?  I'm  ready." 

"  Well,  I'm  not,"  laughed  John  Pendleton.  "  Luck 
ily  for  me  it  doesn't  go  for  some  hours  yet,  anyhow," 
he  finished,  as  he  got  to  his  feet  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

A   NEW    ALADDIN 

WHATEVER  were  John  Pendleton's  preparations  for 
departure  —  and  they  were  both  varied  and  hurried  — 
they  were  done  in  the  open,  with  two  exceptions. 
The  exceptions  were  two  letters,  one  addressed  to 
Pollyanna,  and  one  to  Mrs.  Polly  Chilton.  These 
letters,  together  with  careful  and  minute  instructions, 
were  given  into  the  hands  of  Susan,  his  housekeeper, 
to  be  delivered  after  they  should  be  gone.  But  of  all 
this  Jimmy  knew  nothing. 

The  travelers  were  nearing  Boston  when  John 
Pendleton  said  to  Jimmy: 

"  My  boy,  I've  got  one  favor  to  ask  —  or  rather, 
two.  The  first  is  that  we  say  nothing  to  Mrs.  Carew 
until  to-morrow  afternoon;  the  other  is  that  you  al 
low  me  to  go  first  and  be  your  —  er  —  ambassador, 
you  yourself  not  appearing  on  the  scene  until  perhaps, 
say  —  four  o'clock.  Are  you  willing  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  am,"  replied  Jimmy,  promptly;  "not 
only  willing,  but  delighted.  I'd  been  wondering  how 
I  was  going  to  break  the  ice,  and  I'm  glad  to  have 
somebody  else  do  it." 

"Good!    Then  I'll  try  to  get  —  your  aunt  on  the 

303 


304  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

telephone  to-morrow  morning  and  make  my  appoint 
ment." 

True  to  his  promise,  Jimmy  did  not  appear  at  the 
Carew  mansion  until  four  o'clock  the  next  afternoon. 
Even  then  he  felt  suddenly  so  embarrassed  that  he 
walked  twice  by  the  house  before  he  summoned  suf 
ficient  courage  to  go  up  the  steps  and  ring  the  bell. 
Once  in  Mrs.  Carew's  presence,  however,  he  was  soon 
his  natural  self,  so  quickly  did  she  set  him  at  his  ease, 
and  so  tactfully  did  she  handle  the  situation.  To  be 
sure,  at  the  very  first,  there  were  a  few  tears,  and  a 
few  incoherent  exclamations.  Even  John  Pendleton 
had  to  reach  a  hasty  hand  for  his  handkerchief.  But 
before  very  long  a  semblance  of  normal  tranquillity 
was  restored,  and  only  the  tender  glow  in  Mrs. 
Carew's  eyes,  and  the  ecstatic  happiness  in  Jimmy's 
and  John  Pendleton's  was  left  to  mark  the  occasion 
as  something  out  of  the  ordinary. 

"And  I  think  it's  so  fine  of  you  —  about  Jamie! " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Carew,  after  a  little.  "  Indeed, 
Jimmy —  (I  shall  still  call  you  Jimmy,  for  obvious 
reasons;  besides,  I  like  it  better,  for  you)  — indeed 
I  think  you're  just  right,  if  you're  willing  to  do  it. 
And  I'm  making  some  sacrifice  myself,  too,"  she  went 
on  tearfully,  "  for  I  should  be  so  proud  to  introduce 
you  to  the  world  as  my  nephew." 

"  And,  indeed,  Aunt  Ruth,  I  —  "  At  a  half-stifled 
exclamation  from  John  Pendleton,  Jimmy  stopped 
short.  He  saw  then  that  Jamie  and  Sadie  Dean 
stood  just  inside  the  door.  Jamie's  face  was  very 
white. 


A  New  Aladdin  305 

"Aunt  Ruth!"  he  exclaimed,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other  with  startled  eyes.  "Aunt  Ruth!  You 
don't  mean  —  " 

All  the  blood  receded  from  Mrs.  Carew's  face,  and 
from  Jimmy's,  too.  John  Pendleton,  however,  ad 
vanced  jauntily. 

"  Yes,  Jamie ;  why  not  ?  I  was  going  to  tell  you 
soon,  anyway,  so  I'll  tell  you  now."  (Jimmy  gasped 
and  stepped  hastily  forward,  but  John  Pendleton 
silenced  him  with  a  look.)  "Just  a  little  while  ago 
Mrs.  Carew  made  me  the  happiest  of  men  by  saying 
yes  to  a  certain  question  I  asked.  Now,  as  Jimmy 
calls  me  '  Uncle  John,'  why  shouldn't  he  begin  right 
away  to  call  Mrs.  Carew  *  Aunt  Ruth  '  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Oh-h ! "  exclaimed  Jamie,  in  plain  delight, 
while  Jimmy,  under  John  Pendleton's  steady  gaze  just 
managed  to  save  the  situation  by  not  blurting  out 
his  surprise  and  pleasure.  Naturally,  too,  just  then, 
blushing  Mrs.  Carew  became  the  center  of  every 
one's  interest,  and  the  danger  point  was  passed.  Only 
Jimmy  heard  John  Pendleton  say  low  in  his  ear,  a 
bit  later: 

"  So  you  see,  you  young  rascal,  I'm  not  going  to 
lose  you,  after  all.  We  shall  both  have  you  now." 

Exclamations  and  congratulations  were  still  at  their 
height,  when  Jamie,  a  new  light  in  his  eyes,  turned 
without  warning  to  Sadie  Dean. 

"  Sadie,  I'm  going  to  tell  them  now,"  he  declared 
triumphantly.  Then,  with  the  bright  color  in  Sadie's 
face  telling  the  tender  story  even  before  Jamie's  eager 
lips  could  frame  the  words,  more  congratulations  and 


306  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

exclamations  were  in  order,  and  everybody  was  laugh 
ing  and  shaking  hands  with  everybody  else. 

Jimmy,  however,  very  soon  began  to  eye  them  all 
aggrievedly,  longingly. 

"  This  is  all  very  well  for  you''  he  complained 
then.  '  You  each  have  each  other.  But  where  do  I 
come  in?  I  can  just  tell  you,  though,  that  if  only  a 
certain  young  lady  I  know  were  here,  7  should  have 
something  to  tell  you,  perhaps." 

"Just  a  minute,  Jimmy,"  interposed  John  Pendle- 
ton.  "  Let's  play  I  was  Aladdin,  and  let  me  rub  the 
lamp.  Mrs.  Carew,  have  I  your  permission  to  ring 
for  Mary?" 

"  Why,  y-yes,  certainly,"  murmured  that  lady,  in  a 
puzzled  surprise  that  found  its  duplicate  on  the  faces 
of  the  others. 

A  few  moments  later  Mary  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  Did  I  hear  Miss  Pollyanna  come  in  a  short  time 
ago?"  asked  John  Pendleton. 

"  Yes,  sir.     She  is  here." 

"  Won't  you  ask  her  to  come  down,  please." 

"  Pollyanna  here !  "  exclaimed  an  amazed  chorus, 
as  Mary  disappeared.  Jimmy  turned  very  white,  then 
very  red. 

"  Yes.  I  sent  a  note  to  her  yesterday  by  my  house 
keeper.  I  took  the  liberty  of  asking  her  down  for  a 
few  days  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Carew.  I  thought  the 
little  girl  needed  a  rest  and  a  holiday ;  and  my  house 
keeper  has  instructions  to  remain  and  care  for  Mrs. 
Chilton.  I  also  wrote  a  note  to  Mrs.  Chilton  her 
self,"  he  added,  turning  suddenly  to  Jimmy,  with  un- 


"  '  I'M    GLAD,   GLAD.    GLAD    FOR EVERYTHING    NOW  !  '  : 


A  New  Aladdin  307 

mistakable  meaning  in  his  eyes.  "  And  I  thought 
after  she  read  what  I  said,  that  she'd  let  Pollyanna 
come.  It  seems  she  did,  for  —  here  she  is." 

And  there  she  was  in  the  doorway,  blushing,  starry- 
eyed,  yet  withal  just  a  bit  shy  and  questioning. 

"  Pollyanna,  dearest !  "  It  was  Jimmy  who  sprang 
forward  to  meet  her,  and  who,  without  one  minute's 
hesitation,  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"Oh,  Jimmy,  before  all  these  people!"  breathed 
Pollyanna  in  embarrassed  protest. 

"  Pooh !  I  should  have  kissed  you  then,  Pollyanna, 
if  you'd  been  straight  in  the  middle  of  —  of  Wash 
ington  Street  itself/'  vowed  Jimmy.  "  For  that  mat 
ter,  look  at  — '  all  these  people  '  and  see  for  yourself 
if  you  need  to  worry  about  them." 

And  Pollyanna  looked ;  and  she  saw : 

Over  by  one  window,  backs  carefully  turned,  Jamie 
and  Sadie  Dean;  over  by  another  window,  backs 
also  carefully  turned,  Mrs.  Carew  and  John  Pendle- 
ton. 

Pollyanna  smiled  —  so  adorably  that  Jimmy  kissed 
her  again. 

"  Oh,  Jimmy,  isn't  it  all  beautiful  and  wonderful  ?  " 
she  murmured  softly.  "  And  Aunt  Polly  —  she 
knows  everything  now;  and  it's  all  right.  I  think  it 
would  have  been  all  right,  anyway.  She  was  begin 
ning  to  feel  so  bad  —  for  me.  Now  she's  so  glad. 
And  I  am,  too.  Why,  Jimmy,  I'm  glad,  glad,  GLAD 
for  —  everything,  now !  " 

Jimmy  caught  his  breath  with  a  joy  that  hurt. 

"  God  grant,  little  girl,  that  always  it  may  be  so  — 


308  Pollyanna  Grows  Up 

with  you/'  he  choked  unsteadily,  his  arms  holding  her 
close. 

"  I'm  sure  it  will,"  sighed  Pollyanna,  with  shining 
eyes  of  confidence. 


THE  END. 


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ELEANOR  H.   PORTER 

POLLYANNA:    The  GLAD  Book  (250.000) 

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after  Pollyanna  has  gone  away,  you  get  her  letter  saying  she 
is  going  to  take  '  eight  steps '  to-morrow  —  well,  I  don't  know 
just  what  you  may  do,  but  I  know  of  one  person  who  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  shook  with  the  gladdest  sort  of  sad 
ness  and  got  down  on  his  knees  and  thanked  the  Giver  of  all 
gladness  for  Pollyanna." 

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Net,  $1.00;  carriage  paid,  $1.15 

Grown-ups  as  well  as  young  folks  will  enjoy  this  new 
Blossom  Shop  story,  which  concerns  itself  with  the  "  growing 
up  "  of  Anne  Carter,  known  in  the  previous  story  as  "  Han- 
nie,"  but  now  insisting  —  since  she  is  approaching  young 
womanhood  —  upon  the  dignity  of  Anne.  There  are  glad 
times  and  sad  times  in  Anne's  endeavors  to  "  grow  up  grace 
fully/'  but  the  sun  manages  to  shine  through  most  of  the 
pages  of  the  story.  Practically  all  of  the  characters  of  the 
first  Blossom  Shop  story  are  again  introduced,  including 
sweet  Mrs.  Carter — 'Anne's  stepmother  —  and  little  Eugene. 

Like  its  predecessor,  "  Anne  of  the  Blossom  Shop "  is  a 
"sunshine  maker"  and  refreshingly  natural  in  every  way. 

"  When  one  receives  full  measure  to  overflowing  of  delight 
in  a  tender,  charming,  and  wholly  fascinating  new  piece  of 
fiction,  the  enthusiasm  is  apt  to  come  uppermost."  —  Louisville 
Post. 

"  This  is  the  kind  of  a  story  that  makes  one  grow  younger, 
more  innocent,  more  light-hearted.  Its  literary  quality  is 
impeccable.  It  is  not  every  day  that  such  a  heroine  blossoms 
into  even  temporary  existence,  and  the  very  name  of  the  story 
bears  a  breath  of  charm."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  A  charming  portrayal  of  the  attractive  life  of  the  South, 
refreshing  as  a  breeze  that  blows  through  a  pine  forest."  — 
Albany  Times-Union. 

"  A  book  which  contributes  so  much  of  freshness,  enthusi 
asm,  and  healthy  life  to  offset  the  usual  offerings  of  modern 
fiction,  deserves  all  the  praise  which  can  be  showered  upon 
it"  —  Kindergarten  Review. 


THE   PAGE   COMPANY'S 


WORKS  OF 

L.  M.  MONTGOMERY 

ANNE  OF  GREEN  GABLES   (4oth  printing) 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  M.  A.  and  W.  A.  J.  Glaus. 

$1.50 

"  In  '  Anne  of  Green  Gables  '  you  will  find  the  dearest  and 
most  moving  and  delightful  child  since  the  immortal  Alice." 
Twain  in  a  letter  to  Francis  Wilson. 


ANNE  OF   AVONLEA   (22nd  printing) 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  George  Gibbs    .        .     $1.50 
"  A  book  to  lift  the  spirit  and  send  the  pessimist  into  bank 
ruptcy  !  "  —  Meredith  Nicholson* 

CHRONICLES  OF  AVONLEA  (6th  printing) 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  George  Gibbs. 

Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

"  The  author  show's  a  wonderful  knowledge  of  humanity, 
great  insight  and  warm-heartedness  in  the  manner  in  which 
some  of  the  scenes  are  treated,  and  the  sympathetic  way  the 
gentle  peculiarities  of  the  characters  are  brought  out,"  —  Bal 
timore  Sun. 

THE   STORY  GIRL   (pth  printing) 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  George  Gibbs    .        .     $1.50 
"  A  book  that  holds  one's  interest  and  keeps  a  kindly  smile 

upon  one's  lips  and  in  one's  heart  as  well."  —  Chicago  Inter- 

Ocean. 

KILMENY  OF  THE  ORCHARD  (loth  printing) 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  George  Gibbs    .        .    $1.50 
"  A  story  born  in  the  heart  of  Arcadia  and  brimful  of  the 

sweet  and  simple  life  of  the  primitive  environment."  —  Boston 

Herald. 

THE  GOLDEN  ROAD   (sth  printing) 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  George  Gibbs. 

Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

In  which  it  is  proven  that  "  Life  was  a  rose-lipped  comrade 
with  purple  flowers  dripping  from  her  fingers." 

"  It  is  a  simple,  tender  tale,  touched  to  higher  notes,  now 
and  then,  by  delicate  hints  of  romance,  tragedy  and  pathos/' 
—  Chicago  Record-Herald. 


I/5T  OF  FICTION $ 

NOVELS  BY 

MRS.  HENRY  BACKUS 

THE  CAREER  OF  DOCTOR  WEAVER 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  William  Van  Dresser. 

Net,  $1.25 ;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

"High  craftsmanship  is  the  leading  characteristic  of  this 
novel,  which,  like  all  good  novels,  is  a  love  story  abounding 
in  real  palpitant  human  interest.  The  most  startling  feature 
of  the  story  is  the  way  its  author  has  torn  aside  the  curtain 
and  revealed  certain  phases  of  the  relation  between  the  med 
ical  profession  and  society."  —  Dr.  Charles  Reed  in  the  Lancet 
Clinic. 

"  The  pictures  that  Mrs.  Backus  gives  us  of  hospital  life  and 
her  views  of  medical  ethics  are  admirable." — NewYork Herald. 

THE  ROSE  OF  ROSES 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color. 

Net,  $1.25 ;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

The  author  has  achieved  a  thing  unusual  in  developing  a 
love  story  which  adheres  to  conventions  under  unconventional 
circumstances.  She  has  written  a  novel  out  of  the  ordinary 
in  every  way  and  one  of  striking  brilliance,  — •  remarkable  for 
its  unaffectedness  and  human  interest  appeal. 

"  Mrs.  Backus'  novel  is  distinguished  in  the  first  place  for 
its  workmanship."  —  Buffalo  Evening  News. 

SYLVIA'S  EXPERIMENT;   The  Cheerful  Book 

By  MARGARET  R.  PIPER.  Trade—          —Mark 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color  from  a 
painting  by  Z.   P.   Nikolaki.    Net,$i.2$;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 
"An  atmosphere  of  good  spirits  pervades  the  book;    the 
humor  that  now  and  then  flashes  across  the  page  is  entirely 
natural,  and  the  characters  are  well  individualized."  —  Boston 
Post. 

"  The  bright  story  Js  told  with  freshness  and  humor,  and 
the  experiment  is  one  that  will  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  all 
to  whom  the  festival  of  Christmas  is  dear."  —  Boston  Herald. 

MISS  MADELYN  MACK,  DETECTIVE 

By  HUGH  C.  WEIR. 

Cloth  decorative,  •  illustrated.  Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 
"  Clever  in  plot  and  effective  in  style,  the  author  has  seized 
on  some  of  the  most  sensational  features  of  modern  life,  and 
the  result  is  a  detective  novel  that  gets  away  from  the  beaten 
track  of  mystery  stories  in  the  first  page  and  never  returns 
to  it."  —  New  York  Sun. 


THE  PAGE    COMPANY'S 


WORKS  OF 

THEODORE  GOODRIDGE  ROBERTS 

THE  HARBOR  MASTER 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color  from  a 
painting  by  John  Goss.  Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 
"  The  salt  of  the  sea  is  in  every  chapter.  From  start  to  finish 

the  story  thrills  with  its  action  and  clear  presentation  of  life  in 

the  open."  —  Kansas  City  Star. 

RAYTON:  A  Backwoods  Mystery 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  John  Goss. 

Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

"  The  story  has  plenty  of  action,  breathes  of  the  fresh  fields 
and  forests  of  New  Brunswick,  and  presents  life  in  ail  its  health 
and  vigor."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

A  CAPTAIN  OF  RALEIGH'S 

Clotn  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color  from  a  paint 
ing  by  John  Goss $1.50 

"  A  strong,  straightforward  tale  of  love  and  adventure,  well 
worth  reading."  —  Springfield  Union. 

A  CAVALIER  OF  VIRGINIA 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Louis  D.  Gowing       .     $1.50 

"  The  action  is  always  swift  and  romantic  and  the  love  is  of 

the  kind  that  thrills  the  reader.    The  characters  are  admirably 

drawn  and  the  reader  follows  with  deep  interest-the  adventures 

of  the  two  young  people."  —  Baltimore  Sun. 

HEMMING,  THE  ADVENTURER 

Cloth  decorative,  with  six  illustrations  by  A.  G.  Lamed. 

$1.50 

"  Its  ease  of  style,  its  rapidity,  its  interest  from  page  to  page, 
are  admirable;  and  it  shows  that  inimitable  power  —  the  fitory 
teller's  gift  of  verisimilitude."  —  The  Reader. 

BROTHERS  OF  PERIL 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  illustrations  in  color  by  H.  C. 

Edwards $1.50 

A  tale  of  Newfoundland  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  of  the 
now  extinct  Beothic  Indians  who  lived  there. 

"  An  original  and  absorbing  story.  A  dashing  story  with  a 
historical  turn.  There  is  no  lack  of  excitement  or  action  in  it, 
all  being  described  in  vigorous,  striking  style."  —  Boston  Tran- 
tcript* 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 

HAUNTERS  OF  THE  SILENCES 

Goth,  one  volume,  with  many  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston 
Bull,  four  of  which  are  in  full  color        ....      $2.00 
The  stories  in  Mr.  Roberta's  new  collection  are  the  strongest  and 
best  he  has  ever  written. 

He  has  largely  taken  for  his  subjects  those  animals  rarely  met 
with  in  books,  whose  lives  are  spent "  In  the  Silences,"  where  they 
are  the  supreme  rulers.  Mr.  Roberts  has  written  of  them  sympa 
thetically,  as  always,  but  with  fine  regard  for  the  scientific  truth. 
"  As  a  Writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  enviable 
place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imaginative 
and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

RED  FOX 

THE  STORY  OF  His  ADVENTUROUS  CAREER  IN  THE  RINGWAAK 
WILDS,  AND  OF  His  FINAL  TRIUMPH  OVER  THE  ENEMIES  OF 
His  KIND.    With  fifty  illustrations,  including  frontispiece  in 
color  and  cover  design  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative       ....  $2.00 

"  True  in  substance  but  fascinating  as  fiction.  It  will  interest 
old  and  young,  city-bound  and  free-footed,  those  who  know  ani 
mals  and  those  who  do  not."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  A  brilliant  chapter  in  natural  history."  —  Philadelphia  North 
American. 

THE  KINDRED  OF  THE  WILD 

A  BOOK  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE.  With  fifty-one  fu!l-]Da|e  plates  and 
many  decorations  from  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston  BulL 

Square  quarto,  decorative  cover $2.00 

"  Is  in  many  ways  the  most  brilliant  collection  of  animal  stories 

that  has  appeared;   well  named  and  well  done."  —  John  J5ur- 

Toughs. 

THE  WATCHERS  OF  THE  TRAILS 

A  companion  volume  to  "  The  Kindred  of  the  Wild."    WUb 
forty-eight  full-page  plates  and  many  decorations  from  draw 
ings  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  decorative  cover     •      •      •      •      «     $2.00 


8  THE  PAGE  COMPANY'S 

"  These  stories  are  exquisite  in  their  refinement,  and  yet  robust 
in  their  appreciation  of  some  of  the  rougher  phases  of  woodcraft. 
Among  the  many  writers  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an 
enviable  place."  —  The  Outlook. 

"  This  is  a  book  full  of  delight.  An  additional  charm  lies  hi  Mr. 
Bull's  faithful  and  graphic  illustrations,  which  in  fashion  all  their 
own  tell  the  story  of  the  wild  life,  illuminating  and  supplementing 
the  pen  pictures  of  the  author."  —  Literary  Digest. 

THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WATER 

With  thirty  full-page  illustrations  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull 
and  Frank  Vining  Smith.  Cover  design  and  decorations  by 
Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  Every  paragraph  is  a  splendid  picture,  suggesting  hi  a  few 

words  the  appeal  of  the  vast,  illimitable  wilderness."  —  The 

Chicago  Tribune. 

THE  HEART  THAT  KNOWS 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .       .       .  $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  singularly  effective  strength,  luminous  in  literary 

color,  rich  in  its  passionate,  yet  tender  drama." — New  York  Globe. 

EARTH'S  ENIGMAS 

A  new  edition  of  Mr.  Roberta's  first  volume  of  fiction,  pub 
lished  in  1892,  and  out  of  print  for  several  years,  with  the  addi 
tion  of  three  new  stories,  and  ten  illustrations  by  Charles 
Livingston  Bull. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .       .       .  $1.50 

"  It  will  rank  high  among  collections  of  short  stories.  In 
'  Earth's  Enigmas  '  is  a  wider  range  of  subject  than  in  the  '  Kin 
dred  of  the  Wild.'  "  —  Review  from  advance  sheets  of  the  illustrated 
edition  by  Tiffany  Blake  in  the  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

BARBARA  LADD 

With  four  illustrations  by  Frank  Verbeck. 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover  .       .       .       .     $1.50 
"  From  the  opening  chapter  to  t,he  final  page  Mr.  Roberts  lurea 
us  on  by  his  rapt  devotion  to  the  changing  aspects  of  Nature  and 
by  his  keen  and  sympathetic  analysis  of  human  character,"  — 
Boston  Transcript. 


LIST  OF  FICTION' 


CAMERON   OF    LOCHIEL 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Philippe  Aubert  de  Gaspe",  with 

frontispiece  in  color  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  Professor  Roberts  deserves  the  thanks  of  his  reader  for  giving 
a  wider  audience  an  opportunity  to  enjoy  this  striking  bit  of 
French  Canadian  literature."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

THE    PRISONER    OF    MADEMOISELLE 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

A  tale  of  Acadia,  —  a  land  which  is  the  author's  heart's  delight, 

—  of  a  valiant  young  lieutenant  and  a  winsome  maiden,  who  first 

captures  and  then  captivates. 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANCIENT  WOOD 

With  six  illustrations  by  James  L.  Weston. 

Library  12mo,  decorative  cover       .       «        .       .       .      $1.50 

"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  novels  of  recent  days."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  A  classic  twentieth-century  romance."  —  New  York  Commer« 
cial  Advertiser. 

THE    FORGE    IN    THE   FOREST 

Being  the  Narrative  of  the  Acadian  Ranger,  Jean  de  Mer,^ 
Seigneur  de  Briart,  and  how  he  crossed  the  Black  Abb  6,  and 
of  his  adventures  in  a  strange  fellowship*    Illustrated  by  Henry 
Sandham,  R.  C.  A. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative       .       .       *       .       •      $1.50 
A  story  of  pure  love  and  heroic  adventure. 

BY    THE    MARSHES    OF    MINAS 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .        .      $1.50 
Most  of  these  romances  are  in  the  author's  lighter  and  more 

playful  vein;   each  is  a  unit  of  absorbing  interest  and  exquisite 

workmanship . 

A   SISTER    TO    EVANGELINE 

Being  the  Story  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  and  how  she  went  into 
exile  with  the  villagers  of  Grand  Pre\ 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    ,       •       .      $1.50 
Swift  action,  fresh  atmosphere,  wholesome  purity,  deep  paa- 
aion,  and  searching  analysis  characterize  this  strong  novel. 


10  THE   PAGE   COMPANY'S 

WORKS  OF 

NATHAN  GALLIZIER 

THE  SORCERESS  OF  ROME 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  drawings  in  color  by  "  The  Kin- 

neys"    ....  $1.50 

The  love-story  of  Otto  III.,  the  boy  emperor,  and  Stephania, 
wife  of  the  Senator  Crescentius  of  Rome. 

CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 

Cloth  decorative,  with  six  drawings  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

$1.50 
A  romance  of  the  fall  of  the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty  hi  Italy. 

THE  COURT  OF  LUCIFER 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  drawings  in  color  by  "  The  Kin- 

neys" $1.50 

An  historical  romance  woven  around  the  famous  Borgia 
family. 

THE  HILL  OF  VENUS 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  drawings  in  color  by  Edmund  H. 
Garrett.  Net,  $1.35;  carriage  paid,  $1.50 

This  is  a  vivid  and  powerful  romance  of  the  thirteenth  century 
in  the  times  of  the  great  Ghibelline  wars. 

WORKS  OF 

HELEN  M.  WINSLOW 
THE  PLEASURING  OF  SUSAN  SMITH 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Jessie  Gillespie. 

Net,  $1.00;  carriage  paid,  $1.15 

"  One  is  glad  to  recommend  this  book  to  folk  who  care  for 
romance,  humor  and  good  sense,  simplicity  and  brevity  as 
quite  the  sort  of  reading  they  are  sure  to  like  by  way  of  enter 
tainment."  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

PEGGY  AT  SPINSTER  FARM 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Mary  G.  Huntsman  .      $1.50 

"  Very  alluring  is  the  picture  she  draws  of  the  old-fashioned 

house,  the  splendid  old  trees,  the  pleasant  walks,  the  gocgeoua 

sunsets,  and  —  or  it  would  not  be  Helen  Winslow  —  the  cati." 

—  The  Boston  Transcript. 


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